Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 8: What Do You Want This Time?

Audrey's POV

| studied Blake's face as he sat in the chair beside my hospital bed, the familiar aristocratic features that had

once meant everything to me, the cold detachment in his eyes evident. Five years of loving this man, and now

all | felt was a vast emptiness inside.

“So, you really want a divorce?”

| let my gaze drift around the room. “Yes,” | said quietly, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice. “This time,

| really want a divorce.”

| met his gaze steadily, surprised by how calm I felt. “You must've seen the papers | left, right?”

With a sudden movement, he pulled out the old divorce agreement I'd left at the Lunar mansion and threw it at

my face. The papers scattered across my hospital blanket like fallen leaves.

“Three years ago, you refused twenty million to leave. Now you're not only asking for divorce but claiming you'll

leave with nothing?” His voice dripped with disdain. “Audrey Sinclair, at least make your act believable.”

The divorce papers felt heavy in my hands, like the weight of all my past declarations of love. Three years ago,

when he’d first woken from his coma, | had refused to divorce him. Not because twenty million wasn’t enough -

money had never been what keptby his side. | couldn’t leave him then because | loved him too much.

How ironic that my devotion from back then had bechis weapon of mockery today.

A bitter smile curved my lips as | gathered the scattered papers. “Isn't it better if | leave with nothing?”

Blake's expression flickered for a moment before settling back into its usual mask of indifference. “It would be

good if you really wanted to leave with nothing,” he said coldly. “But we both know that’s not true. Tell me, what

do you want this time?”

“You think everything | do is about wanting something from you?”

“Isn't it always?” He moved closer, his expensive cologne filling the air between us. “Is this about Laurel? Are

you trying to force my hand?”

| almost laughed. Of course he would think this was about Laurel. Everything in his world revolved around Laurel

Rose, Hollywood's returning princess. The woman he’d been waiting for all along.

“No,” | said softly. “This isn’t about Laurel. This is aboutfinally accepting reality.”

“Reality?” His voice showed his sarcasm. “And what reality would that be?”

“That this marriage was never real.” The words ceasier than | expected. “It was all just my own delusion.

You never loved- | know that now.”

| saw a hint of strange expression on his face. But it was gone before | could be sure. Suddenly, Blake stood up,

his tall frcasting a shadow over my hospital bed. “Drop your little schemes,” he said coldly. “Be a proper

Mrs. Parker. Laurel won't fight with you for anything, and you should stay away from her. Don’t try to bother her.”

| bit my lip silently.

Since Laurel's return from Europe, I'd done nothing but try to step away from this marriage. Yet Blake still

assumed | would target her somehow.

This was his second warning about Laurel.

How ridiculous it all was.

At that thought, I looked up at him, forcing down the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “I'll check out of

the hospital right now,” I said slowly, meeting his cold gaze. “Let's go to the courthouse and file for divorce.”

“Once we're divorced, you won't have to worry aboutbothering your precious Miss Rose anymore.”

Blake let out a cold laugh. “I don’t have tfor this. Return to the Lunar mansion within three days, then I'll let

this slip away.”

“Blake Parker!”

He didn’t even pause, his tall figure striding toward the door with practiced elegance.

As | watched his retreating back, something insidefinally shattered. A familiar metallic taste flooded my

mouth, warm and thick. He didn’t look back, not even when the first drops of blood stained the pristine white

hospital sheets. His footsteps never faltered, even as they mixed with the sudden commotion outside.

“Patient in 2306 is vomiting blood!”

The urgent voices of the medical team rushed past him in the hallway - them running to save a life, him walking

away from one. The contrast would have madelaugh if | could still breathe.

How fitting, | thought as darkness crept in. The man I'd spent five years loving couldn't spare even a backward

glance, while strangers were racing to keepalive.

“Girl, you need to eat something.”

Astrid’s voice pulledback to consciousness. Evening had settled over the city, painting the sky outside my

window in shades of purple and gold. She sat beside my bed, a container of homemade vegetable soup

steaming on the side table.

“I made you slight soup with fresh vegetables,” she continued, watchingwith worried eyes. “Though

honestly, you've been sleeping so much lately. Since you're already at Mayo Clinic, why not get a full checkup?”

| managed a weak smile. “It’s just fatigue from the procedure.”

“Right.” Her tone made it clear she wasn’t buying it. “That's why you look worse after a week of rest. | just saw

on Page Six that your husband was shopping at St. Regis with that woman.”

The mention of Blake and Laurel didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Maybe I really was finally letting go.

“Let him shop wherever he wants,” | said, pushing myself up to sit. “I've made my decision.”

“How did your talk with him go earlier?”

| stared at the city lights beyond my window, remembering the scattered divorce papers, his cold laugh, his

dismissive stride as he leftbleeding. “I told him | want nothing. I'll leave with just my personal belongings.”

“What?” Astrid’s voice rose sharply. “Nothing? Then why won't he just agree to the divorce? ”

| thought about Blake's ultimatum. Three days to return to the mansion. But | had my own countdown now -

three months left to live. For once, Blake Parker's threats seemed insignificant in comparison.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” | said quietly. “His agreement isn't necessary.”

Astrid studied my face for a long moment. “You're different,” she finally said. “Something's changed.”

“I'm just tired,” | told her, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “Tired of pretending.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Then stop pretending. You don’t owe him anything.”

If only you knew, | thought, remembering the truth about that day five years ago when | found him, blind and

injured, in that small village. But this was a secret | would take to my grave.

“You're right,” | said, squeezing her hand back. “I don’t owe him anything anymore. Mrs. Parker is in the past.”

| took a sip of the soup. “By the way, where's Snow and my things?”

“Found you a nice two-bedroom apartment,” Astrid said. “Snow and everything are there. It's bright, clean, and

most importantly - the Parkers won't find it.”

“Thank you,” | said softly. “How can | repay you?”

Astrid’s eyes lit up. “After your treatment... let's go to our old bar? Like we used to with Rachel, before...” Her

voice trailed off.

“Before everything changed,” | finished quietly. “Sure, I'll keep you company. The underground bar, right? It's

been a long while.”