Chapter 80
Audrey’s POV
*Used to it.”
Simple words, devastating in their casual cruelty.
I stared out at the passing city lights, letting out a bitter laugh. Five years of loving him, three years of marriage, and this was what I was worth – someon who should have grown accustomed to being the family punching bag. Rebecca and Thalia’s orchestrated takedowns, the whispered mockery at charity galas, the endless speculation about my background – apparently, I should have developed immunity to it all by now.
Each perfect smile, each graceful deflection of veiled insults had cost me pieces of myself I’d never get back. And for what? To hear him dismiss it all with three casual words.
“No.” My voice came out steady, unfamiliar even to my own ears. “I never got used to it.” I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘No one gets used to being
target.”
Blake’s gaze flickered to the mirror, searching my face–perhaps for the acquiescence he’d grown accustomed to. Instead, he found only resolution. For once, it seemed Blake Parker had nothing to say.
“So this time…” I let each word land with deliberate weight, “I would rather die than apologize to your Miss Rose.”
The screech of tires against asphalt filled the car as Blake slammed on the brakes, pulling over with enough force to throw me against the seat in front of
- me.
Blake’s POV
I yanked the gear shift into park, anger coursing through my veins like electricity. As my eyes met hers, before I could say anything, my mind went blank.
The woman staring back at me was a stranger. Gone was the warm glow that used to light her eyes whenever she looked at me, replaced by something cold and distant.
When had that happened? When had Audrey Sinclair become someone I couldn’t read?
A hint of fear washed through me. I pushed it down, drawing out a cigarette instead. The flame from my lighter caught the sharp angles of her face, and for a moment, I was struck by how beautiful she still was, even twisted with fury. The thought came unbidden and unwelcome.
“What if I insist you apologize to Laurel today?” The words came out calmer than I felt.
A cold smile touched her lips. “And if I refuse? What will you do, Mr. Parker? Force my mouth open?”
The formal address stung. When had we become such strangers?
“That won’t be necessary.” I took a long drag, letting the smoke curl between us. “Parker Group recently investigated a modeling agency for acquisition.”
Audrey’s POV
The mention of a “modeling agency‘ made my nerves instantly go taut – Astrid worked as a model.
“Our investigators found some interesting material on the owner’s computer.” Blake continued, his voice as cold and detached as if he were discussing a mundane business transaction. “Hidden camera footage from the changing rooms.”
I remained silent, every muscle in my body tense as he spoke.
Blake took another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling between us like a living thing. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and casually scrolled to several images.
Take a look.“
Chapter 80
His words made my heart leap into my throat. I bit my lip hard, eyes drawn to the screen despite averything in me screaming to look away
On the screen was Astrid Wilson in her underwear, searching through clothes.
My heart contracted violently. My whole body trembled, teeth chattering. The friend who had stood by me through everything–my diagnosis, the love of the baby, the crumbling of my marriage now being used as a pawn in Blake’s game.
Blake Parker, you’re despicable!” The words tore from my throat, hot with rage.
A cold smile played at the corner of his mouth. I didn’t want to resort to this kind of threat, but you forced my hand.”
The soft click of the car doors unlocking punctuated his next words.
“Audrey Sinclair. Go upstairs and apologize now, or I’ll have these photos distributed. Your choice,”
I stared at him, searching for any trace of the man I’d thought I knew. The one who’d held me through nightmares, whose hand I’d held through blindness and coma. Where had that man gone? Or had he been nothing but a beautiful fiction I’d created?
Mayo Clinic stood before us, its glass and steel structure gleaming in the afternoon sun. The drive from Parker Mansion should have taken thirty minutes Blake had done it in less than fifteen. Another testament to how far he’d go for Laurel Rose. Speed limits, blackmail, whatever remnants of decency still existed between us – nothing was sacred anymore.
Three months. That’s all I had left. I could spend it fighting battles I couldn’t win, or…
“Fine.” The word tasted like ash. “I’ll apologize.”
Satisfaction flickered across his features.
“But after this,” I continued, my voice low, “those photos disappear. Forever.”
You apologize, I delete them. Simple as that.”
‘I’ll hold you to that.” The irony of trusting his promises wasn’t lost on me. Our wedding vows had proven just as empty.
The antiseptic smell filled the corridor as I walked through the sliding doors. The private room bustled with activity, but something felt off. The doctors and nurses rushing around weren’t actually carrying equipment or medications – just creating an illusion of urgency.
Laurel’s room was a masterpiece of medical theater. She lay in bed, face artfully pale, oxygen mask in place, surrounded by dramatically beeping machines. To my practiced eye – too familiar now with genuine critical care – the artifice was obvious. Her breathing was too measured, her coloring too perfect, the equipment arranged for maximum visual impact rather than actual medical necessity.
“Miss Sinclair…” She extended a trembling hand, her voice paper–thin. “You came…”
“Yes.” I kept my voice flat. “I heard you were in critical condition without my apology. Had to see for myself.”
A flash of anger crossed her face, quickly masked as the door opened behind us. On cue, she clutched her chest, coughing delicately. “I never asked for an apology… cough… my distress is my own fault…”
Blake was at her side instantly, his tone filled with concern. “Laurel! Should I call the doctor?”
She twined her fingers with his. “No need, Blake, please… I need to speak with Miss Sinclair alone…”
He hesitated, protective instincts warring with her request.
“It’s fine.” She managed a brave smile. “Miss Sinclair and I… need to clear the air.
With obvious reluctance, Blake released her hand and turned to leave. As he passed me, he lowered his voice, speaking only loud enough for me to hear: *Remember the photos
I dug my nails into my palms. “Don’t worry. I won’t risk my friend’s privacy.”
2/3
Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me CEO
Chapter 81
Chapter 80
His words made my heart leap into my throat. I bit my lip hard, eyes drawn to the screen despite averything in me screaming to look away
On the screen was Astrid Wilson in her underwear, searching through clothes.
My heart contracted violently. My whole body trembled, teeth chattering. The friend who had stood by me through everything–my diagnosis, the love of the baby, the crumbling of my marriage now being used as a pawn in Blake’s game.
Blake Parker, you’re despicable!” The words tore from my throat, hot with rage.
A cold smile played at the corner of his mouth. I didn’t want to resort to this kind of threat, but you forced my hand.”
The soft click of the car doors unlocking punctuated his next words.
“Audrey Sinclair. Go upstairs and apologize now, or I’ll have these photos distributed. Your choice,”
I stared at him, searching for any trace of the man I’d thought I knew. The one who’d held me through nightmares, whose hand I’d held through blindness and coma. Where had that man gone? Or had he been nothing but a beautiful fiction I’d created?
Mayo Clinic stood before us, its glass and steel structure gleaming in the afternoon sun. The drive from Parker Mansion should have taken thirty minutes Blake had done it in less than fifteen. Another testament to how far he’d go for Laurel Rose. Speed limits, blackmail, whatever remnants of decency still existed between us – nothing was sacred anymore.
Three months. That’s all I had left. I could spend it fighting battles I couldn’t win, or…
“Fine.” The word tasted like ash. “I’ll apologize.”
Satisfaction flickered across his features.
“But after this,” I continued, my voice low, “those photos disappear. Forever.”
You apologize, I delete them. Simple as that.”
‘I’ll hold you to that.” The irony of trusting his promises wasn’t lost on me. Our wedding vows had proven just as empty.
The antiseptic smell filled the corridor as I walked through the sliding doors. The private room bustled with activity, but something felt off. The doctors and nurses rushing around weren’t actually carrying equipment or medications – just creating an illusion of urgency.
Laurel’s room was a masterpiece of medical theater. She lay in bed, face artfully pale, oxygen mask in place, surrounded by dramatically beeping machines. To my practiced eye – too familiar now with genuine critical care – the artifice was obvious. Her breathing was too measured, her coloring too perfect, the equipment arranged for maximum visual impact rather than actual medical necessity.
“Miss Sinclair…” She extended a trembling hand, her voice paper–thin. “You came…”
“Yes.” I kept my voice flat. “I heard you were in critical condition without my apology. Had to see for myself.”
A flash of anger crossed her face, quickly masked as the door opened behind us. On cue, she clutched her chest, coughing delicately. “I never asked for an apology… cough… my distress is my own fault…”
Blake was at her side instantly, his tone filled with concern. “Laurel! Should I call the doctor?”
She twined her fingers with his. “No need, Blake, please… I need to speak with Miss Sinclair alone…”
He hesitated, protective instincts warring with her request.
“It’s fine.” She managed a brave smile. “Miss Sinclair and I… need to clear the air.
With obvious reluctance, Blake released her hand and turned to leave. As he passed me, he lowered his voice, speaking only loud enough for me to hear: *Remember the photos
I dug my nails into my palms. “Don’t worry. I won’t risk my friend’s privacy.”
2/3
Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me CEO
Chapter 81
