Chapter 63

Audrey's POV

"Used to it."

Simple words, devastating in their casual cruelty.

I stared out at the passing city lights, a bitter laugh escaping me. Five years of loving him, three years of marriage, and this was the sum of my worth—someone who should have grown accustomed to being the family’s convenient target. The whispered mockery at charity galas, the endless speculation about my background—apparently, I should have developed immunity to the constant erosion of my dignity by now.

Each graceful deflection of a veiled insult had cost me pieces of myself I’d never get back. And for what? To hear him dismiss it all with three casual words.

"No," my voice came out steady, unfamiliar even to my own ears. "I never got used to it." I met his eyes in the rearview mirror, my gaze unyielding. "No one gets used to being a target, Blake. They just get tired of holding the shield."

Blake’s gaze flickered in the mirror, searching my face for the compliance he’d grown accustomed to. For once, he found only a cold, hard resolution.

"So this time," I let each word land with deliberate weight, "I would rather stand my ground and lose everything than offer a hollow apology to your Miss Rose."

The sharp screech of tires filled the cabin as Blake pulled the car over with sudden, jarring force. The world outside the window blurred as the car came to a dead stop.

Blake's POV

I yanked the gear shift into park, a cold anger coursing through me. I turned to face her, but the words I intended to say died in my throat.

The woman staring back at me was a stranger. The warm glow that used to light her eyes whenever she looked at me was gone, replaced by a crystalline frost. When had she become so unreadable?

A fleeting sense of unease washed over me, but I pushed it down, reaching for a cigarette. The flame of my lighter caught the sharp, beautiful angles of her face. Even in her fury, she possessed a quiet strength that felt increasingly foreign to me.

"What if I insist?" I asked, my voice calmer than I felt.

A mocking smile touched her lips. "And if I refuse? What then, Mr. Parker? Will you try to force the words from me?"

The formal address stung. We had become strangers in the very house we shared.

"That won't be necessary," I said, letting the smoke curl between us. "I believe you value your friend’s future more than your own pride. My office recently reviewed the management contracts of Astrid Wilson’s agency."

Audrey's POV

The mention of Astrid made my nerves go taut. She was the one person who had stood by me through my diagnosis and the loss of my baby.

"Our legal team found several... complications in the agency’s recent behavior," Blake continued, his voice as cold as a business transaction. "There are records of contract violations and professional disputes that, if released, would end her career in this city permanently. Her name would be blacklisted before sunset."

I remained silent, my heart hammer-pounding against my ribs. He was using the one person I had left to protect as a pawn.

Blake pulled up a series of legal documents on his phone, highlighting the clauses that could ruin her. "I don’t enjoy resorting to this, Audrey. But you’ve forced my hand. You apologize, and these files stay in my private vault. Forever. Your choice."

I searched his face for a trace of the man I once thought I knew—the man who had held my hand through the darkest nights of our early marriage. Had he always been this ruthless? Or had I simply been blind to the predator beneath the suit?

"Fine," the word tasted like ash. "I'll go."

"A wise decision," he said, the tension in his jaw relaxing.

"But after this," I added, my voice low and dangerous, "you leave Astrid out of our war. You destroy those files."

"You have my word," he said.

We arrived at the clinic minutes later. The private wing was a masterpiece of medical theater. To my practiced eye—too familiar now with the reality of genuine critical care—the artifice was obvious. The machines beeped with dramatic timing, and the nurses moved with an exaggerated urgency that didn't match the stable readings on the monitors.

Laurel lay in bed, artfully pale, an oxygen mask resting near her face.

"Miss Sinclair..." she whispered, her voice paper-thin. "You came..."

"I heard your recovery depended on it," I said flatly.

A flash of irritation crossed her face before she caught herself, clutching her chest with a delicate cough as Blake entered the room. "No, Blake... please, I don't want an apology to be forced... I just want peace..."

Blake was at her side instantly. "Laurel, don't overexert yourself." He turned to me, his voice a low warning: "Remember what’s at stake."

"I remember," I replied, my nails digging into my palms.

"Blake, darling," Laurel looked up at him with watery eyes. "Let me speak with Audrey alone. I need to clear the air without an audience."

With obvious reluctance, Blake released her hand and stepped out. As he passed me, he didn't even look my way.

The moment the door clicked shut, Laurel’s transformation was instantaneous. She sat up, the weakness vanishing like mist. Her lips curved into a triumphant, predatory smile.

"Audrey Sinclair," she said, her voice ringing with clarity as she leaned forward. "Do you see it now? Your husband would tear down the world just to keep me smiling. What do you have left?"