9
Blake’s POV
The bruises on Audrey’s legs held my gaze, an unexpected tightness forming in my chest. Purple–blue marke mapped her pale skin like a topographica record of this morning’s violence. My throat constricted.
This morning, when she’d tumbled down the stairs, she hadn’t cried out in pain. Hadn’t shown any sign of distress. She’d simply taken Snow’s carrier from Michael and walked away. I’d assumed she was fine–or maybe I’d just needed her to be fine. There had been signs the slight unsteadiness in her step, the tightness around her mouth–but acknowledging them would have meant confronting truths I wasn’t ready to face.
Dr. Bennett’s examination expression darkened as she gently lifted Audrey’s shirt, revealing an angry red mark on her abdomen.
And this is from the kick Miss Rose gave her just now,” Dr. Bennett said, her voice slicing through the room’s tension. Her eyes found mine, sharp with accusation.
“Laurel didn’t kick her, I said automatically. “It must have been an accidental bump…”
Even as the defense left my lips, uncertainty crept in. I’d been focused on getting Laurel to the car safely. Had I missed something?
Dr. Bennett gave a cold laugh. “An accidental bump wouldn’t leave such a precise bruise mark. Her voice was clinically detached, but the accusation beneath was unmistakable. “This was caused by a pointed shoe applied with force. Wasn’t Miss Rose wearing stilettos today?”
She was right. Laurel had been wearing her favorite red–soled stilettos. I fell silent.
Felix stepped forward, physically placing himself between Audrey and me. “Blake,” he began, his voice balancing respect with challenge, “everyone knows your history with Laurel. But I’ve heard that when you were comatose, Audrey took care of you.”
His eyes searched mine. “Even if there wasn’t love, surely there’s some loyalty? You’re still legally married–is this really how you treat your wife?”
The words stung more than I wanted to admit.
Grandfather’s cane struck the marble floor. “Exactly! You demand Audrey apologize to Laurel, but for what?” His voice clearly gave away “That woman pushed Audrey down a flight of stairs this morning, then kicked her just now. Has she offered one word of apology?”
The weight of their disapproval pressed in from all sides. I turned to Audrey, deflecting rather than confronting.
“Why didn’t you say you were hurt earlier?” I must have been out of my mind to say those words.
With a bitter smile, Audrey looked at me. “Would it have mattered if I had?” Her voice demanded I forgive her. Have you forgotten?”
drried
his extreme anger.
years of accumulated disappointment. “This morning, you even
The room’s air seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe.
“I…” My phone’s ring cut through the tension. Laurel’s name lit up the screen, and something like relief washed over me as I turned away from the accusing
stares.
“Laurel, how are you feeling?”
‘Blake darling,” her voice came through weak and trembling, “it hurts so much… I feel terrible…” soft sob punctuated her words, “Is Audrey coming? If not, it’s okay. I…”
Panic surged through me. “Don’t cry, don’t cry! I‘ bring her right now!”
I hung up and turned back, my mind clear with a singular purpose. Whatever moral quandary I’d been navigating moments ago vanished beneath
urgency in Laurel’s voice.
Grandfather read my intent immediately. He moved with surprising agility, placing himself between me and Audrey.
“You brat!” His voice carried the authority that had built Parker Group from the ground up. “If you dare touch her again…
1/3
Chapter 79,
1 respected him more than anyone, but couldn’t yield now. I maneuvered around film and Falis, scooping Aidtey into my armve the ble inna strode toward the door, her body rigid against mine.
Laurel’s condition is urgent! I called over my shoulder. 1 II take cate of Audrey’s injuries, don’t worry!
I ignored the protests behind me. Outside, Audrey began struggling.
*Blake Parker! Put me down! She pushed against my chest, her strength surprising given her injuries.
‘Stop it,” I said through gritted teeth. There’s no time.”
I managed to deposit her in the backseat and lock the doors before she could escape, then slid behind the wheel. The car roared to life as I pulled away from the mansion, tension filling the space between us.
In the rearview mirror, I caught Audrey pushing herself upright, her expression defiant.
“Don’t bother,” she said flatly. “Even if I go to the hospital, I won’t apologize to her.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “It’s just a few words! When did you get so petty? Laurel’s condition is serious!”
While taking Laurel to the hospital earlier, I’d seen her medical records from Europe. The documented symptoms and disease progression had shocked me. I’d doubted her before, thinking someone who looked so vibrant couldn’t be seriously ill. Those records had proven me wrong. It seemed impossible that someone as delicate as Laurel had endured such pain daily without breaking.
Watching Audrey in the mirror, rubbing her wrist and staring out the window, I felt a complicated tangle of emotions. Compared to Laurel lying in that hospital bed, Audrey looked… resilient. The contrast made my chest tighten in ways I didn’t want to examine.
“Laurel has suffered tremendously these past years,” I said, softer now. “It hasn’t been easy for her.”
Audrey’s POV
A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I raised my eyes to meet Blake’s in the rearview mirror. “So her suffering gives her the right to hurt me? And now I’m supposed to apologize to her?”
For a moment, uncertainty flashed across his features, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of frustration when confronted with an inconvenient truth.
‘You weren’t like this before,” he finally said, a hint of accusation in his tone.
Something flared inside me—a spark of long–suppressed anger. “And what was I like before?” I challenged.
He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “The old Audrey owned her mistakes and apologized when needed. You didn’t turn every slight into a federal case.*
I leaned back against the leather seat, as a smile–part bitter, part mocking–played across my lips. “Interesting. So you’ve always known I was getting the short end of the stick.”
Blake had witnessed every dig, every calculated humiliation from his mother, his sister, without saying a word.
I’d told myself he was clueless–just another guy who couldn’t read between the lines of female warfare. I’d made excuse after excuse for his silence.
God, what a fool I’d been. He’d seen it all. Every snub, every calculated insult. Every time I swallowed my pride and apologized for things that weren’t my fault.
He’d just chosen to ignore it. The realization hurt worse than any physical injury.
His body stiffened, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but landed like a slap:
‘I thought you were used to it.”
