Chapter 36

Amid the frantic pleas from the crowd, Warren clenched his jaw, his fists tightening in frustration before finally conceding. His voice, strained with reluctance, he said, “Vivienne, I never intended to kick you out of the company, nor was I targeting you—”

Vivienne cut him off, her tone as cold as ice, her gaze unwavering as she met his with complete indifference. “Do you really think your intentions matter to me now?”

Her words sliced through the tension in the room, sharp and unyielding. “I came here today only to resign.”

Her voice was devoid of emotion, as if this decision had been made long before this moment. If not for the resignation, she wouldn't have even bothered setting foot in this place—let alone wasting a single word on the people gathered before her.

Without another glance, she turned, her every step measured and purposeful as she walked toward the exit.

Warren, still seated, felt a surge of anger rising within him as he watched her resolute figure moving away. His chest tightened, and the fury he’d been holding back for so long erupted, searing through him.

He shot to his feet, his face dark with stormy rage, his voice hard with authority. “Vivienne, I won’t accept your resignation! Do you think you can just waltz in and out of Mitchell Group whenever you please?”

Vivienne halted, glancing over her shoulder at Warren; the mockery in her eyes was undeniable as a bitter smile curved her lips. “Do you really believe Mitchell Group can hold me back?”

Her words dripped with sarcasm. “What, Warren? Are you planning to kidnap me? Don't forget how much blood, sweat, and tears it took me to help you build Mitchell Group into what it is now!”

Warren was struck dumb, his voice caught in his throat as he stared into her cold eyes. The atmosphere between them grew heavy, freezing in its stillness. His heart pounded painfully, his breath shallow, as if something invisible had seized him.

In the past, those eyes had always held warmth, affection—when had they ever been so frigid, so indifferent? Had she truly stopped caring for him?

One of the board members chimed in, “Miss Hayes, you’ve been running things at Mitchell Group for years. If you resign now, what will happen to the rest of the company?”

Another added, “The Sienna family pulling their investment isn’t a big deal. How could the board possibly hold it against you over something so trivial?”

“Miss Hayes, you must consider this carefully. The success of Mitchell Group today is because of your tireless efforts. If you leave now, won’t all that hard work be for nothing?”

But Vivienne seemed to hear none of it. Without a second glance, she pushed open the meeting room door and walked out, her footsteps resolute.

Warren stood frozen, watching her retreat, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his body trembling from the strain. His heart plunged, as though something irreplaceable had slipped through his grasp.

As the news of Vivienne’s sudden resignation spread, chaos rippled through the halls. Some whispered with delight, while others murmured in concern about the company’s future. But Vivienne, the very center of it all, felt nothing. Once she had made the decision to sever her ties with Warren, the fate of Mitchell Group held no sway over her.

Inside her office, she moved with sharp efficiency, packing up her things. Just then, the door creaked open, and Warren stepped inside. “Vivienne, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing left to say.” Vivienne’s voice was icy, devoid of warmth, her tone clipped and businesslike. “Take a good look. I don’t want any of these things, so don’t even think of using them as an excuse later.”

Among the items she was discarding was one of the few photographs of them together. In the image, Warren wore a beaming smile, while Vivienne’s gaze was filled with warmth and affection for him. It was taken the day they received their first investment—Warren had eagerly dragged her into the frame, and she had cherished it ever since. But now, she tossed it aside as if it held no more value than an old receipt.

Her grand departure was not a bluff. It was a firm declaration that, from this moment on, she was cutting all ties with him.

“I hope Mitchell Group thrives.” Her voice was steady, almost emotionless, as she left those final words hanging in the air before turning to leave. As she passed him, Warren’s hand shot out, seizing her wrist with a desperate grip. His voice, hoarse and raw, barely escaped his lips.