Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 4: When Will You Sign Them?

Audrey's POV

| stood before the ornate double doors of the hotel, feeling Astrid’s approving gaze on my red dress. The silk

fabric whispered against my skin with each breath, its deep crimson a far cry from the conservative designer

pieces | used to wear as Mrs. Parker.

“See?” Astrid’s voice held a note of triumph. “I always said you were made for these bold, sexy looks. You used

to be so concerned about the ‘proper Parker wife’ image, always wearing those conservative designer pieces...”

She adjusted the strap of my dress with a satisfied smile. “They never suited you!”

| met her eyes. “I won't make that mistake again.”

The words cout stronger than | expected, carrying the weight of my decision. Three years of trying to fit into

the Parker family mold, of dulling my own light to avoid outshining others - it felt like shedding an ill-fitting skin.

“Ready?” Astrid squeezed my hand.

| took a deep breath, feeling the fabric shift across my exposed back. “As I'll ever be.”

The doors opened, and we stepped into the sea of designer evening wear and polite society laughter. The annual

LA Jewelry Guild gala was in full swing, with the who's who of the industry mingling under the warm lighting. |

felt the subtle shift in attention as we entered - the pause in conversations, the sideways glances, the whispered

speculations about the woman in red who dared to stand out.

Let them look, | thought. Let them wonder.

I'd just finished a waltz with a visiting Swiss watchmaker when a familiar voice caughtoff guard.

“Audrey?”

| turned to find James Collins watchingwith a mix of surprise and appreciation. He looked exactly as |

remembered from our Parsons days - tall, elegant, with that gentle intelligence in his eyes that had once made

my heart skip a beat.

“James!” The smile that spread across my face was genuine. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He gestured at the dance floor with an easy grace. “Since we've met here, shall we? We can catch up while we

dance.”

| placed my hand in his, feeling the familiar comfort of an old friend. “I'd love to.”

“You're still designing?” he asked as we moved across the floor.

“Spieces,” | replied, surprised by the warmth in my own voice. “Though jewelry design has taken a backseat

lately.”

“A shame. Your talent was always exceptional.”

The music swelled around us, and for a moment, | let myself remember simpler times. Design classes at Parsons,

coffee breaks between lectures, James's patient guidance when | struggled with technical drawings. Before |

becMrs. Parker. Before | learned what it meant to love someone who would never loveback.

A sudden hush fell over the ballroom as the lights dimmed after the MC’s announcement. A spotlight began its

lazy sweep across the dance floor, and James chuckled as it slowed near us.

“The lighting director must have it out fortonight.”

“James,” | said softly, watching the second spotlight find its target across the room, “looks like fate has other

plans.”

The air seemed to crystallize as | saw them - Blake and Laurel, caught in the sspotlight as us. He looked

impeccable as always in his designer tuxedo, while she was a vision in white, clinging to his arm with practiced

delicacy.

“Audrey?” James's voice seemed to cfrom far away. “Are you alright?”

| forced my lips into a smile, even as my chest tightened. “Of course. It’s just... interesting timing.”

The MC's cheerful voice boomed through the speakers: “Couples in the spotlight, please prepare to exchange

partners!”

As James released my waist, | took a deep breath, turning toward my husband. Soon to be ex-husband, |

reminded myself. On his face, | caught a flash of something dark and possessive that | once would have mistaken

for care.

Not anymore.

Blake's hand was cold when it closed around mine. His other hand settled on my waist, pullingcloser than

strictly necessary for a waltz.

“Good evening,” | said politely, maintaining the precise distance required by proper dance form.

His laugh held no warmth. “So formal? You seemed much more... intimate with your previous partners.”

“Did 1?” | kept my voice light, even as his fingers dug into my waist. “I hadn't noticed.”

His expression darkened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Playing coy doesn’t suit you, Audrey Sinclair.”

“And playing the concerned husband doesn’t suit you, Blake Parker.”

We moved across the floor in perfect sync. From the outside, we probably looked like any other elegant couple.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t recall country girls taking ballroom

lessons.”

| gave a fake smile. “There are still many things aboutthat you don’t know, Mr. Parker.”

His jaw tightened. | could feel the tension radiating through his arm where it pressed against my back. ” Audrey.

Since when have you becso sharp-tongued? Remember, you're still my wife!”

“Wife?” | met his gaze steadily. “When was the last tyou chome, Blake? You better go check what's

waiting on your office desk.”

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, perhaps, at this new version ofwho dared to push back. “What's that?

What do you...”

“The divorce papers, Blake. They've been there for a week. Tell- when will you sign them?”

The question landed between us like a stone in still water. His steps faltered for a fraction of a second.

“What are you talking about?”

“You'll understand when you see them, Mr. Parker.” | stepped back as the music ended, breaking his hold. “I hope

our next meeting will be at the lawyers’ office to finalize the divorce.”

“Audrey...” He reached for my arm, but | was already turning away.

“Goodbye, Blake.”

| walked away without looking back, feeling lighter with each step. The red dress moved like liquid fire around

me, and for the first tin five years, | felt truly, completely free.

Behind me, | could hear Laurel's practiced breathless voice: “Blake, darling!” There was a flutter of white silk as

she practically fled from James, tically falling into Blake's arms. “Your dancing is so much better! That

gentleman...” She cast a pointed look in James's direction, her voice dropping to a deliberately audible whisper,

“He was so rough, stepped on my toes several times!”

| caught James's barely concealed eye roll as he approached me, smoothly removing his navy suit jacket.

Without a word, he draped it over my shoulders. The familiar scent brought back memories of simpler days at

school when dreams still seemed possible and love wasn’t a battlefield.

“Ready to go?” he asked softly, his eyes full of concern.

I nodded, pulling his jacket closer. The night air would be cool, and I'd left my wrap in Astrid’s car. “Thank you,

James.”

We walked towards the gate without casting a single glance back.