Chapter 759
Chapter 759:
“I know there are many who dislike me, but the truth is, I don’t have much time left. At the moment, nothing seems to be in my favor, and I honestly don’t even know where to begin explaining myself. There are countless p>
Matters that can only be settled with time—time I don’t have anymore. I’ve learned to accept being misunderstood. Even so p>
Her voice trembled as her eyes grew misty. “All I want is a wedding. That’s the last wish I have. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to see it happen. And if it costs me my life afterward, so be it p>
She gave a faint, sorrowful smile, her complexion pale but striking. “Because deep down, I know I don’t have much time left p>
Meanwhile, Johnny worked quickly, posting two emotional articles online. “In a storm of consequences, no one can truly stay innocent. But should we really push someone already standing at death’s door p>
“She has nothing left—not even her future. Her final hope is a wedding.” His words painted Vivian as a tragic figure, tying her so-called countdown to death against Millie’s rising success.
The lines that stood out the most: “Myron, Elliott Group’s new product, the concert… Millie has everything. So why strip Vivian of her only wish? Why torment a woman ready to trade her remaining days for a wedding?” And there was another: “Every bit of support for Millie is another blade driving Vivian closer to death p>
Donations surged instantly. Vivian’s loyal fans wept as they showered her with tips and gifts. And her critics refused to back down.
The internet exploded into heated arguments. Some insisted Vivian deserved sympathy, pointing out that Millie already had everything, so why crush Vivian’s final wish. Others pushed back, saying this guilt-tripping was nonsense. Vivian had created her own mess, and Millie was in no way at fault. The clash between both sides grew more and more intense.
Watching the tips spike again and again, Vivian’s chest swelled with triumph. This was exactly what she had planned for.
𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕡𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟
Outside the villa, Giffard strode forward with the safe in hand. The night breeze whipped through his hair as his phone vibrated nonstop—Myron’s name flashing across the screen. He ignored the call when his eyes caught sight of someone familiar ahead.
Standing by the car was Brandon.
The moment he saw him, fury flared in Giffard’s eyes. Eugene busied himself preparing Brandon’s wheelchair, but before he could react, Giffard marched over and seized Brandon by the collar.
“Giffard! What’s gotten into you?” Eugene shouted, stepping in to stop him.
Giffard refused to look away, his glare locked firmly on Brandon.
Brandon braced himself against the car and yanked his collar free from Giffard’s grip with force.
“Are you losing your mind, Giffard?” Brandon asked, his tone sharp with disdain.
“Me? Losing my mind?” Giffard let out a bitter laugh, his glare seething with hatred. “Tell me, Brandon, who’s the one really losing his mind here p>
“If you’ve got something to say, then spit it out,” Brandon retorted, his voice turning colder.