Chapter 75
Audrey’s POV
Honestly, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. One moment Laurel Rose had been standing there, cornered by irrefutable video evidence of her lies. The next, she’d dropped to her knees with the kind of dramatic flair that would have made Broadway directors weep with envy.
I’m sorry! The words burst from her like a perfectly rehearsed soliloquy.
“I apologize for my arrogant behavior at the gate, she continued, words filled with calibrated remorse. And for falsely accusing you of lying, nearly costing you your job!” Her voice cracked at exactly the right moment, tears gathering in her eyes with professional timing.
The security guard shifted uncomfortably, clearly as taken aback by this performance as the rest of us. Laurel seized the moment, pressing on with increasing fervor.
‘I’ve always been known for my gentle nature. This is the first time I’ve ever acted this way, and look how quickly karma struck… She pressed one hand to her chest, the picture of sincere contrition. “I sincerely apologize, and to show my remorse, my assistant will contact you with a ten thousand check. Buy yourself something nice… consider it compensation for my behavior.”
Her body seemed to wilt like a delicate flower as she delivered her final line: “Once again, I am truly sorry!”
I watched the scene unfold with a mix of grudging admiration and bone–deep exhaustion. Three years of marriage to Blake Parker had taught me to recognize manipulation when I saw it, but even I had to admit – Laurel was in a class of her own.
But the real performance was yet to come. As if on cue, Laurel’s strength seemed to fail her. She slumped forward, one hand clutching her chest while the other reached weakly for Blake.
“Laurel!” Blake’s voice carried genuine alarm. Together with the guard, Blake helped Laurel to her feet. She swayed dramatically, clutching his arm as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Blake cradled her head against his shoulder, his protective instincts fully engaged. “Charles! Call an ambulance!”
I caught the butler’s instinctive glance toward William Parker, seeking approval before acting on Blake’s order. The old man’s dismissive wave spoke volumes about his thoughts on this latest melodrama.
As Charles stepped away to make the call, Laurel turned her face into Blake’s chest, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. “Blake darling…”
his
Blake leaned down, his ear close to her lips as she whispered something I couldn’t catch. Whatever she said made his expression soften instantly, protective instincts clearly engaged by her performance. I caught fragments of words that sounded like “records” and “Europe,” but the rest was lost in their private exchange.
Something cold settled in my stomach that had nothing to do with my actual cancer as I watched their intimate moment. The way she clung to him, the way he bent so attentively to catch her every word – it was a reminder of everything I’d lost, everything I’d never truly had.
Laurel’s gaze suddenly snapped to me, a flash of something darker beneath her tears, “Miss Sinclair, I gave you the apology you wanted…” Her voice carried just the right note of wounded innocence. “What more do you want from me?”
I was confused. “What do you mean, what more do I want?” I could feel my brows drawing together, hands clenching at my sides. “When you wrong someone, you apologize. Isn’t that basic decency?”
‘She’s already ill,” Blake’s voice was cold. “Why must you keep targeting her?”
“Targeting her?” These words were so cruel. “You call this targeting? I just want her to take responsibility for what she’s done and apologize for her mistakes…”
