Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 81

Audrey's Pov

Mayo Clinics private rooms were designed to soothe with their muted colors and soft lighting. But watching

Laurel's theatrical performance from my chair. | felt anything but soothed. A strange calm settled over me

instead the kind that comes with having nothing left to lose.

“Still playing the devoted patient?” | crossed my legs, studying her pristine appearance. ‘It's been a month since

your grand return from Europe. Blake still hasn't finalized our divorce. My lips curved into a smile that seemed to

catch her off guard. Performance not quite landing the way you hoped?

Three years of playing the perfect Mrs. Parker, swallowing every insult with a dignified smile, had taught me

exactly how to make each word count. With death already marking my calendar, why bother with niceties?

The change in Laurel was instant. Color flooded her previously ashen cheeks as she dropped the fragile patient

act. “You're the one who missed the divorce appointment!” She pushed herself up, healthcare performance

forgotten. ‘lliding in hospitals to avoid signing papers, and now you dare mock me?”

“Hiding?” | kept my voice light. “Interesting theory. Though if Blake was truly eager to divorce me, he'd have

rescheduled immediately. Yet this morning. let the implication hang.

Laurel's perfectly manicured hands twisted in the sheets. “You won't be Mrs. Parker much longer,” she hissed.

‘Blake will divorce you this week.”

She was right, of course. I'd overheard enough to know that Blake had already reserved the venue and cake for

his proposal to Laurel. He would definitely seekout for divorce this week. So | wanted to take this

opportunity, while still legally married, to give myself ssatisfaction. After all, | wouldn't be around to enjoy

the aftermath much longer.

“He’ll givethe most lavish proposal New York has ever seen!” Her eyes raked overwith calculated

disdain. “Unlike your pathetic little wedding while he was in a coma.”

She leaned forward, her voice filled with malice. “That's what happens when you force a man who doesn’t love

you to marry you. Even carrying his child couldn’t save you - you lost that too, didn’t you?”

The jab about my lost child hit harder than | wanted to admit. For a moment, the hospital air felt thick with

memories - blood on pristine tiles, Blake's cold disbelief, a future crumbling like sand between my fingers.

Karma's a bitch, | thought grimly. But with three months left to live, what was the point of playing nice?

| took a deep breath, not wanting to continue this topic.

“You know what they say about method acting?” A cold smile formed on my lips as | looked at her vibrant,

healthy appearance. “Sometimes actors get so deep into their roles, it becomes reality. Keep playing sick, Miss

Rose - you might just manifest something real.”

She yawned dismissively. “I'm just practicing my craft anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed before she abruptly changed tactics. “By the way, didn’t you chere to apologize to me?”

She pointed to the floor with one slender finger. “Con, get on your knees and apologize to me.”

“That won't necessary, | think.” | leaned back in my chair, amused by her demand. “Without Blake's threat, |

would rather die than be here.”

| looked at her, my voice devoid of emotions. “Honestly, thank you for sending him away. | was worried about

how to force out an apology with him around, but now it’s just us no need for pretense.”

Her painted lips tightened. “What do you mean?”

‘If you don’t do as | said, I'll make sure Blake releases whatever leverage he has over you.”

“I'm so scared. | pulled out my phone, watching her widened eyes. “Want to hear your Oscar-worthy

performance?”

The recording was crystal clear: “Do you see? Your husband would do anything for me.”

The color drained from her face as her own voice echoed back. Gone was the delicate invalid, replaced by

something altogether more dangerous.

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Chapter 81

*You recorded me?” Each word trembled with fury. “How dare you

* Miss Rose, | cut her off. A cold laugh escaped me. “What do you think Blake 4 reaction would be if he knew

you've heen biking your lifnatt allva

Blake was right about you, she whispered, each word trembling with fury. You're full of schemes. How despicable!

“Despicable?” | stopped the playback. “You crashed intoat the track, pusheddown stairs, and now this

pathetic show. And you rald I'm detecable?

Laurel glared atwith narrowed eyes. “If you dare give that recording to Blake, I'll make sure you pay even if

it costsmy life!

*I'm not interested in that.” The statement was cold but true. With my own death sentence hanging over me,

threats had lost their power. “Keep your act if you want, but stay out of my way. Otherwise, this goes public.” |

met her gaze steadily. Even Blake Parker's influence can’t save an actress caught faking illness for attention.”

The silence stretched between us like a living thing. Finally, Laurel sank back against her pillows, defeat written

in every line of her body.

“Miss Rose, still need my apology now?”

“No!” she murmured, almost speaking through gritted teeth.

“Good, | make my leave now.” As | reached the door, rustling sounds madeglance back. Laurel was already

repositioning her oxygen mask, transforming back into the perfect patient. The performance would have been

impressive if it wasn’t-se predictable.

In the corridor, Blake sat in a chair directly opposite the room door, frowning as he looked at documents in his

hand while occasionally glancing through the small window in the door. Seeingemerge, he immediately

closed the document, set it aside, and stood.

“Well?” The concern in his voice was too obvious. “Is she alright?”

“See for yourself.” My eyes dropped to his phone. “I've done what you asked. Now delete those photos of

Astrid.”

| wanted to see with my own eyes that Blake deleted all those photos and backups. This concerned Astrid’s

privacy, and | didn’t want any mistakes. After everything my friend had done for me, | owed her at least this

much protection.

He frowned. “After | check on Laurel.”

He brushed pastinto the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Their voices drifted out:

‘Laurel! Are you feeling better?”

“Blake darling... much better now. Miss Sinclair apologized...”

The corridor air felt cool against my skin, making my head throb like it was being stabbed with needles. Hearing

their voices, my head hurt even more. If it weren't for Astrid, | would have turned and left immediately. But

thinking about those photos in Blake's possession...

Suppressing my impatience, | moved to sit, noticing Blake's abandoned documents. The papers slipped from my

grasp, scattering across the floor. As | gathered them, certain phrases caught my eye: “advanced stage,”

“experimental treatment,” “survival rates.”

My hands froze.

These weren't business documents - they were research papers on gastric cancer! My condition!

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