Chapter 158
Blake’s POV
“Mrs. Parker, up so early making breakfast?”
Michael’s voice cut through the kitchen like a knife. He froze mid–step when he saw us me standing between Audrey’s knees, her sitting on the counter, our faces just inches apart.
“I… did I come at a bad time?” Michael’s eyes widened as he turned away, shopping bags rustling in his hands.
Audrey’s cheeks burned red. She pushed me back and jumped off the counter, leaving flour handprints on my shirt as she rushed back to her abandoned dough. She pounded it with newfound intensity, eyes locked downward.
I stayed put, watching her flustered movements with unexpected satisfaction. Her blush and slightly trembling fingers gave her away. Even now, she still reacted to me.
I picked up her phone from the counter. “Want me to put this back for you?” My voice came out deeper than intended.
“No,” she snapped, grabbing it with her flour–covered hand and shoving it into her pocket.
Seeing that color spread across her face, I felt my mood lift despite the interruption. I nodded to Michael and walked past
him to the living room.
The leather sofa creaked as I sat. Michael placed his bags on the table and pulled out a new smartphone.
“Mrs. Parker mentioned your phone was damaged in the crash, so I got you a replacement,” he said, placing it before me. “Same number, with all your apps installed.”
I nodded as I turned it on. “What happened to those men who chased us?”
“All alive but injured. They’re in the hospital with police guards. I’ve stationed our people to watch them too.”
“Have you identified who sent them?”
Michael hesitated. “Yes… we have.”
His prolonged silence made me look up. His face was unusually tense as he pulled a folder from his briefcase.
“There’s a company called Parker–Rose Studio,” he said carefully. “Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes,” I replied, opening the folder, my brow furrowing as I read.
Parker–Rose Studio. The name took me back four years. Laurel had wanted to break into entertainment, so we created this small management company. Months later, she needed a more established agency, and we abandoned the studio. I’d thought it was gone.
“The men from last night,” Michael continued, “the ones at NYU, who came after you… they were hired by Parker–Rose
Studio.”
I listened silently.
1/4
“The trolls that Ethan Davies exposed, the ones attacking Mrs. Parker online… they were alan (unded by Packer Studio, The entire campaign against Mrs. Parker traces back there
My hand froze over the page. The studio carried part of my name, but Laurel had run it from day one. After the step- using it for her career four years ago, she never brought it up again.
I’d thought it was dead and buried.
Yet here it was, not only alive but pulling strings behind these attacks.
Audrey’s words from last night echoed in my mind: “If only you and Laurel know who leaked this information… Then either you sent those men, or she did.”
A dull pain spread through my temples. I focused on the document in front of me. It contained everything about Parker- Rose Studio.
My eyes went straight to the legal representative section. Not Laurel Rose, but Jennifer Carson.
“Jennifer Carson is listed as the legal representative,” Michael explained. “Laurel’s agent. After Laurel signed with her new agency, the studio transferred to Jennifer. It’s been under her management since.”
Michael’s voice grew cautious. “While these actions came from Parker–Rose Studio, it’s Jennifer’s company now. Perhaps Laurel knows nothing about what Jennifer’s doing…”
“Do you believe that?” I asked coldly. “I have several companies under your name. When have you ever acted without my
knowledge?”
Michael lowered his head without answering. I understood his comfort – he worried I’d refuse to see the truth about Laurel, that my feelings would blind me to the evidence right in front of us.
But I wasn’t that naive.
I glanced toward the kitchen where Audrey stood working, her movements focused. My brow tightened.
She was right. The online attacks, the men hunting Ethan – all connected to Laurel.
My phone rang, breaking the silence. The screen showed Laurel Rose.
After a moment, I answered. “Hello.”
“Blake darling!” Her voice flowed through the speaker. “Are you awake?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”
“I knew you’d be up! I texted last night but got no reply. Figured you must have crashed early. I calculated you’d be awake by now, so I called!”
Despite her cheerful tone, I caught subtle fatigue in her voice. Something was off. Normally at this hour, Laurel would have barely opened her eyes. Why call so early?
I stood and walked into the yard. Laurel, when did you wake up?”
Just a little while ago,” she answered with forced lightness. I couldn’t sleep well, I’m so excited about today photoshoots!*
“Shouldn’t you rest more?” I asked. “Don’t you have several shoots today? Won’t you be tired?
Audrey’s POV
1 emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of fresh noodles. Blake’s gentle voice drifted in from outside.
“How about getting more sleep? Don’t you have several photoshoots today? Aren’t you worried about looking tired?”
My body stiffened. That tender concern in his voice – I knew exactly who was on the other end. Only Laurel ever heard that tone from him.
I stood frozen, the plate suddenly feeling heavy.
With Michael’s efficiency, he must have discovered who was behind last night’s attack. The people Laurel sent had nearly killed Blake. Yet here he was, speaking to her with the same gentle affection as always.
Had his feelings for her grown so deep that he didn’t care she’d almost killed him? Or did he simply refuse to believe she was capable of such a thing?
Either possibility left me hollow inside.
“Mrs. Parker?” Michael’s voice pulled me back. His eyes moved between me and the plate I held suspended. ‘Is there breakfast for me too?”
I blinked, regaining my composure. “Of course. I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”
Michael brightened. “Thank you, Mrs. Parker!”
I winced at the title. “Please don’t call me that anymore, Blake and I are divorced.”
My eyes drifted toward the window. Outside, Blake stood in the garden, phone pressed to his ear, a faint smile on his lips as he listened to Laurel.
“Sorry, Miss Sinclair,” Michael replied with an awkward laugh. “Old habits.”
“Habits need changing,” I said flatly, setting down the plate and turning back toward the kitchen.
Whatever happened between Blake and me earlier was clearly a lapse in judgment. Maybe gratitude for his protection during the crash, or just physical attraction that meant nothing deeper.
Blake risked his life to save Ethan and me last night. For that, I would make his breakfast, check his wound, and then walk away. No more confusion. Just payment of a debt.
3/4
