Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 46

Audrey's POV

| crouched in the restaurant’s bathroom stall, listening as Thalia Parker and Olivia Cavendish’s voices faded

away. My stomach churned with a familiar pain, but this time, it wasn’t just the illness it was the bitter taste of

betrayal.

Every tI'd brought up divorce recently, Blake had fought against it with such conviction that I'd almost

believed he truly wanted to save our marriage.

But now | finally knew the truth: he’d reserved the venue and cake a month ago, planning his proposal to Laurel

while pretending to fight for us.

So it was all an act, | thought, pressing my hand against my queasy stomach. Every word, every gesture, every

moment of apparent sincerity - just another performance in Blake Parker's grand production.

The pain was getting worse. | fumbled through my purse with trembling fingers, found the small bottle of pills I'd

been keeping close lately. | swallowed two tablets dry, waiting for the edge to dull before checking my reflection.

A few deep breaths, a careful reapplication of lipstick, and the mask was back in place. Astrid wouldn't notice

anything wrong.

When | finally returned to our table, Astrid was demolishing a bowl of spicy ramen, sweat beading on her

forehead. Her eyes narrowed with concern as soon as she saw me.

“Hey, you were gone forever. Is your stomach giving you trouble again?” She put down her chopsticks. “Maybe

we should get you checked at Mayo Clinic? Or we could go somewhere else?”

I shook my head, managing a smile. “It's nothing. I'll just have something light later.”

“Oh God, Audrey, I'm so sorry!” Astrid’s eyes widened with sudden realization. “I completely forgot about your

stomach condition...”

“Just eat, | cut her off. “Since when did you becsuch a queen?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, excusefor giving a damn,” She jutted out her lower lip before diving back into her

ramen. “Fine, whatever. But we're hitting the pharmacy after this, no arguments!”

| wrapped my hands around a warm cup of tea, smiling as | watched her eat.

Looking at my friend's vibrant energy, the weight of my three-month prognosis felt heavier than ever. | wanted

to tell her - God, how | wanted to share this burden. But seeing her there, so full of life, the words refused to

leave my throat.

“Astrid.” My voice cout raspier than intended.

She glanced up, noodles dangling from her chopsticks. “What's up?”

Looking at her flushed face and the sheer life radiating from her, | couldn’t do it. Couldn't shatter this moment

with my death sentence. Instead, | managed a weak smile and handed her a napkin. “You've got sauce all over

your face.”

“Who cares?” she declared, pushing the napkin aside. “Saving trees, one napkin at a time!”

| found myself laughing despite everything, but my amusement was cut short by an all-too-familiar saccharine

voice:

“Miss Sinclair, Miss Wilson, what a pleasure to see you here.”

| looked up at the sound of that voice.

Not far from our table stood Laurel, dressed in pristine white, her arm delicately wrapped around Blake's. Her lips

curved in a gentle smile as she gazed at us, the picture of elegant poise.

| couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow.

So Olivia couldn't stand being looked down upon - she must have called them here deliberately.

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But...

Laurel stood there, looking absolutely radiant n stark contrast to her supposedly injured state from the racetrack

incident just hours ago.

The sight of them together made my stomach twist even more violently than before.

Blake's cold gaze fixed on my tea cup. “Spicy food with bleeding gums? Really?”

‘We'll eat whatever we damn well please,” Astrid snapped. “What's it to you?”

“Think your illness isn’t serious enough? His voice carried that familiar mix of disdain and something else -

something | used to mistake for concern. “Eating this kind of food - do you even care about your health?”

“How touching, Mr. Parker,” | said, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Standing here with your new love

while showing concern for your soon-to-be ex-wife- aren't you afraid Miss Rose will get jealous?”

“Audrey, I've told you, you're misunderstanding my relationship with Laurel! | just see her as my sister!” Blake's

voice rose with frustration.

Misunderstanding? | wanted to laugh. He reserved the proposal venue a month ago, and he has the audacity to

stand here claiming there’s nothing between em?

“Birds of a feather really do flock together, Mr. Parker, | said with a cold smile. ‘I see you've picked up Laurel's

acting skills.”

| could see the flames in Blake's eyes, his anger evident.

Laurel gave a delicate painful expression. “Blake, don’t be angry. Audrey's probably still upset about what

happened at the racetrack this afternoon... Maybe my presence here is making her uncomfortable...”

‘She nearly got you killed, and she’s the one who's uncomfortable?” Blake held her, glaring at me.

Laurel dabbed at her eyes theatrically. “Audrey, | know you misunderstand me, hate me. | should go. Even

though we're divorcing tomorrow, we shouldn't be like enemies after being married for so long. She turned,

making a show of walking toward the stairs, though her steps were deliberately slow - she had no intention of

actually leaving.

‘Laurel, did the racetrack accident hurt your legs?” Astrid’s voice was filled with mockery. “You seem to be

having trouble walking.”

| stood up, gathering my things. “Since Laurel can’t leave, we will. | have nothing more to say to Mr. Parker

anyway. Just remember to be at court on ttomorrow morning.”

Astrid shot Blake one final glare. “Go comfort your precious Laurel. This isn’t over!”

As we walked toward the exit, | heard Laurel's trembling voice: “Blake... Audrey still seems to misunderstand

us... Maybe you should go after her and explain? | don’t want people thinking your divorce is... because of me.”

“There's nothing to explain,” Blake's voice carried across the restaurant. “Actions speak louder than words.”

The parking garage was eerily quiet, our footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. Astrid was still fuming as she

slid into the driver's seat of her car.

‘Why do we have to run into them everywhere? It’s infuriating!”

I leaned back in the passenger seat, staring out at the darkness outside. “It’s a popular restaurant. It's not

surprising they'd be here for dinner.”

“Even if they're here for dinner, do they have to be literally joined at the hip? Her hanging on his arm like that?”

Astrid’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. It’s disgusting. Makessick!”

| looked out the window, watching couples walking arm in arm along the illuminated streets, The city was coming

alive with its usual evening energy, but 1 wasn’t in the mood to admire it.

“They're in their honeymoon phase,” | said calmly. “It's natural they want to be close.”

Astrid shota surprised look. “Audrey, how can you be so calm about this?”

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| kept my tone steady, as if discussing strangers rather than my husband and his mistress. They'll be having

their engagement party in abest a week. Blake has prepared everything a month ago.”

“What the hell? Astrid’s voice rose sharply. So before Laurel even cback from Europe, that bastard had

already planned to propose to her? He's bee wanting this divorce all along, hasn't he?

My lips curved into a bitter smile as | watched the city lights blur together.

“Yes. His heart belonged to someone else long before any of this began...”

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