Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 6: Abandoned Without Mercy

Blake’s POV

My heart skipped for an instant.

For the past week, my mother had assured me daily that Audrey was fine, resting at the mansion, just sulking after our argument. I’d actually believed her, assumed Audrey’s silence was just another of her moods. No messages, no calls, no constant fussing about my schedule – I’d thought she was just being petulant.

But my mother had been lying. All this time.

Audrey hadn’t been here at all. She’d left these papers and walked away.

My grip on my phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. Where would she even go? Having been switched at birth and raised in the countryside, her relationship with her birth family, the Sinclairs, had always been strained. She’d never once visited them in our three years of marriage.

Things three years ago flashed in my mind. She wouldn’t really leave. The thought surfaced with familiar certainty. She knows her place in the Parker family is entirely dependent on this marriage. I let out a cold laugh, finding my previous thought ridiculous.

But at this hour, where could she possibly be?

Unless… had she gone to James Collins? The way they’d danced together at the gala, the familiarity in their interaction… Of course, her perfect college senior would welcome her with open arms.

The anger building in my chest threatened to explode. My mother’s lies, Audrey’s disappearance, those divorce papers – it was all too much. I grabbed my phone, dialing Michael’s number with more force than necessary. He answered on the first ring, as always.

“Find out where Audrey Sinclair is. Immediately.”

“Sir, I’ve investigated.” Michael’s usually composed voice held a note of apprehension. “But I can only trace her return flight to New York… I can’t pinpoint her exact location.”

impossible. Don’t sleep until you find her. If you don’t

the silence of the mansion suddenly oppressive. Upstairs, I needed to see

in its place, from the Italian silk curtains to the

and purchased to meet the exacting standards of a Parker wife. But the small section of casual wear was conspicuously bare. A few

remembering how she used to carefully arrange each piece I gave her. The diamond earrings from our first Christmas. The sapphire necklace that matched her eyes, presented on her birthday. The pearl set she wore to every Parker family function, trying so

perfectly arranged museum

treasures, something unfamiliar twisted in my chest. A hollowness

these discarded luxuries. Things Audrey had once cherished, now left behind without a backward glance. Objects that had lost their

staring at the reflection of our bed. How many nights had I come home late to find her

on the nightstand, without that hideous hand-knitted throw she insisted on keeping. Perfect and cold, like a hotel suite.

came unbidden. When did she

her “injury” from the gala. I ignored it,

endlessly, sleep impossible in this museum of abandoned gifts and hollow

was breaking when Michael

Parker, I’ve located Mrs.

from hours of restless

at Mayo

in New York, known for handling the most serious cases.

Clinic? What’s

special channels, I accessed her admission records.” Michael’s hesitation was palpable. “They show… Mrs. Parker was admitted overnight for a