Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 70

Blake’s POV

The door closed behind Michael with a decisive click, leaving the vast expanse of room unnaturally quiet. Through the floor–to–ceiling windows, I watched my assistant’s figure hurry after Audrey’s retreating form, leaving me alone with Laurel and the echoes of what had just transpired,

The clean staircase showed no sign of what just happened. But the image of Audrey’s body tumbling down those stairs was burned into my mind.

Blake darling… Laurel’s voice wavered as she nervously wet her lips.

I remained fixed on the spot where Audrey had fallen. That was deliberate, She barely touched you, yet you did push her.”

I turned to face her fully, studying her reaction with a cold expression. The expression on her face was beginning to crack under my scrutiny.

“I couldn’t breathe that moment…” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “You know about my cancer…”

“Since when does gastric cancer cause breathing problems?” The question landed like ice between us. When she didn’t immediately respond, I pressed. ‘I still haven’t seen your medical records from Europe.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I’ve arranged consultations with every leading gastric cancer specialist in the country. Pulled strings, called in favors, moved heaven and earth to get you the best care possible.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yet somehow, your medical records remain mysteriously absent.“/

I took a step closer, watching her shrink back. “Tell me, Laurel. Are you really a cancer patient?”

She looked panicked for a moment. Her composure cracked, just for a moment, before she ducked her head to hide behind her hair.

a gesture meant to convey distress but now seemingly theatrical. “The records from

now…

Audrey’s POV

my modest apartment felt like a sanctuary after the morning’s drama. Snow’s warm weight against my chest as I carried her inside did more to ease my pain than any painkiller could. Setting her carrier down gently, I collapsed onto my worn couch, finally allowing myself to

pant leg revealed an impressive array of bruises blooming across my skin, each step of that staircase having left its mark. The irony wasn’t lost on me I’d survived terminal cancer diagnosis only to be nearly

rummaged through my first aid supplies, my phone buzzed

lady interested in your experimental treatment… her representative lawyer wants to meet now, to discuss

glanced down at my battered legs, wincing as I shifted position. “Is

lawyer indicated it was, I

then.” I sighed, already knowing I’d regret this. But with only three months left

over, rubbing against my leg with concerned chirps. Even she seemed to sense something was off about this whole situation. As

efficient, clinical, refusing to provide any details over the phone beyond time and location. As I applied antiseptic to my bruises, I couldn’t help but wonder what

could two terminal cancer patients possibly collaborate on?

1/3

Chapter 70

at the restaurant the lawyer booked carried a particular brand of luxury. Andrew Jensen, the lawyer who’d called earlier, carried himself with the precise professionalism I’d

records with her. He laid out documents with practiced efficiency. She needs a gastric cancer patient’s

stared at him, trying to process this bizarre request. “Wait, what? Isn’t she

Perhaps she needs to conceal her true health status from certain parties.

proposal laid before me was elegant in its deception. Each clause had been crafted carefully, leaving no loose ends that might

Jensen. A terminal patient’s medical records as a smokescreen – it was almost poetic in its simplicity.

Jensen’s voice carried that particular blend of efficiency and authority that only came from years of handling delicate matters for the wealthy. “Once you sign, the hospital will treat your records as hers. All treatments will be