My CEO Ex: Let Me Go.-Chapter 117

Alexander’s POV

The car pulled into the driveway of the villa. As I stepped out, I paused and looked up, noticing that the light in the master bedroom had already been turned off.

I entered the living room, switched on the lights, and deliberately glanced at the drawer. The spare key to the master bedroom was back in its place.

I moved quietly toward the bedroom.

The room was pitch-black, with only slivers of silver light filtering through the gaps in the curtains, casting a faint glow on the head of the bed. I could barely make out Vivienne’s long hair spread across the pillow.

There was a small lump in the middle of the bed. In the darkness, it looked fragile, small.

Vivienne’s body was curled up, half her face hidden under the covers.

I gently sat on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting a corner of the blanket. With the dim moonlight, I gazed at her peaceful face as she slept.

That’s when I noticed the deep wrinkle between Vivienne’s brows, her temples damp with sweat. She murmured in her sleep, as if caught in a nightmare.

Suddenly, it seemed like she was dreaming of something terrifying. Her breathing grew heavier and more frantic. Her fingers clenched the bed sheets, creating creases. Her body trembled and stiffened, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead. Her lips moved, whispering something in a barely audible voice.

I leaned closer, hearing her weak voice, fragmented and strained, “...It’s not... it’s not me... I didn’t...”

A single tear formed at the corner of her eye, slowly sliding down her face, driven by the silent plea, disappearing into the pillow.

A sharp pain pricked my heart. I reached out to gently pat Vivienne’s back, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and whispered, “Sleep, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone who hurt you get away.”

“Dad, I miss you. Can you take me home... please...”

She was dreaming of her father.

She dreamt of when she was little, when her father’s broad shoulders allowed her to sit on his back.

She dreamt of the times she aced her tests, and her father would take her out to buy her favorite food as a reward...

She missed home.

She missed the little house she shared with her father.

She didn’t want to be the adopted daughter of the Hawthorne Dynasty.

She was just Vivienne, the daughter of reporter Maxwell Sinclair.

“Okay, when you wake up, I’ll take you home.” At that moment, I had no intention of taking advantage of Vivienne.

Perhaps it was the comfort I gave her that finally settled her. Vivienne’s breathing evened out, and she slowly drifted back to sleep.

I watched her soft, serene face, lost in thought.

So, this was it. Her outward calmness was just a façade she put on.

She, too, felt hurt. She cried in her sleep, caught in a nightmare.

Julian was right—she shouldn’t have to bear this burden.

Seeing the tear at the corner of her eye, an ache rose in my chest. It wasn’t sharp, but it was persistent, a bitter, suffocating pain that left me struggling to breathe.

Julian had said he liked Vivienne, that’s why he felt sorry for her.

Is this what it feels like to feel sorry for someone?

I carefully tucked the blanket around Vivienne, quietly got up, and left the room. I gently closed the door behind me and slowly walked down the stairs.

How could this feeling be so unbearable?

The pain was in my heart, but it was hard to put into words.

It was like an old injury in the body, where everything seems fine until the rainy days arrive, and the pain shoots through the bones. But you can’t touch the wound, can’t find the source of the pain. All you can do is endure it, tossing and turning.

I had never felt anything like this before.

Not even when Isabella had the accident.

Back then, the only feeling I had was guilt.

It was when I had just joined my grandfather’s company, working in software data development, when the leak happened.

After an investigation, I was the prime suspect, even though I knew I couldn’t have leaked the company’s confidential information. The only person who could access my computer was Isabella.

I thought of a few suspicions and confronted her.

Isabella cried, denying everything, but couldn’t explain the doubts surrounding her.

We had a huge argument after that.

Before this, we had clashed a few times already.

I told her, “Let’s not meet for the next few days. Let’s both calm down and think about whether we want to continue.”

But Isabella couldn’t accept it. She ran off on her own.

And then, the incident happened.

Afterward, I often wondered, if I had chased after her that day, would she have been spared?

But there’s no such thing as “if.”

My grandfather’s sighs, the scorn from my colleagues, Sebastian’s consolation, the teachers’ efforts to fix things—back then, it all felt so heavy.

I had no time to process my emotions. I could only focus on fixing the problems caused by the data leak.

After Isabella was rescued, she developed psychological trauma and became particularly dependent on me.

I never brought up the whole “let’s calm down” thing again.

Facing Isabella, I felt a mix of resignation, a desire to make amends, and a sense of indulgence.

I had never experienced a pain as sharp and relentless as today’s—a deep ache that seemed to take root in my heart.

I stopped on the stairs, pulled out my phone, and dialed Jane’s number.

“Jane.”

“CEO Hawthorne, is there something I can help you with?” Jane assumed I was calling to discuss the details of tonight’s collaboration.

“The financial news channel has been wanting to schedule an interview with me for a while. Let them know I’ve agreed.”

“What? Sir?” Jane thought she must have misheard.

I’d always disliked the media prying into my private life. Aside from public speeches and the videos I allowed to be shared, I never agreed to interviews, didn’t have any social media accounts, and rarely made public appearances.

“CEO Hawthorne, are you absolutely sure?” Jane knew well that this was about Director Vivienne and that I intended to personally set the record straight.

“Yes. Contact them, arrange a time, and get the list of questions.”

“Yes, Sir.”

...

Vivienne’s POV

On Saturday morning, Alexander and I went to Ashford Manor.

“Uncle! Auntie!”

Four-year-old Eleanor Hawthorne bounced out from the living room to greet us.

“Eleanor, you’re up so early!”

I took her hand as we walked into the living room.

Eleanor said seriously, “Uncle, Auntie, my dad said he’s going to take me hiking. Do you want to come too?”

The hike Sebastian mentioned was probably a trip to the cemetery on the hill behind the manor. The Hawthorne family’s private cemetery was on a mountain in the suburbs, where Matthew and his wife were buried. It was where Sebastian’s biological parents rested, and every year on this day, he would visit to pay his respects. Alexander would go as well, even though he didn’t remember what his father looked like.

Last year, Eleanor was too young to join.

“Yes, we’ll go too,” I said.

“Yay! I packed lots of snacks...”

Entering the living room, I greeted Evelyn, “Nana, Lydia.”

Evelyn looked at me warmly.

“Nana, Lydia,” Alexander said with a faint smile.

Evelyn shot him a sharp glare. She had been watching the recent news closely. Something that could’ve been cleared up with a simple clarification had turned into such a mess!

“Where’s Pop-Pop? How’s he doing?” I asked my grandmother.

“Still the same. He’s in the study. Alexander, your grandfather said to go upstairs to see him.”

“Okay,” Alexander replied, heading upstairs.

It was easy to guess that Grandpa was probably going to scold him over this whole situation.

Lydia waved at me with a smile. “Vivienne, come here. I want to show you something.”

“What is it?”

I walked over to her.

Lydia extended her wrist.

On her fair wrist, she wore an icy blue bracelet.

I paused for a moment, then casually admired it. “Heart of the Ocean! Lydia, your big brother is so good to you. He really got you one!”

Lydia’s face lit up with a bright smile. “What about yours? Didn’t you bring it?”

“I asked you to bring it for me to see, didn’t I?” Evelyn smiled.

I sighed, giving a regretful expression. “Nana, too bad you can’t see it anymore.”

“What happened?”

“The bracelet... it accidentally broke.”

“That’s fine. If you like it, let Alexander buy you another one!”

Sadly, I didn’t like it—not at all. Seeing the bracelet reminded me of that night—the night Alexander made his choice, the night he left without a word...