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."

I couldn’t hold the anger in my voice. "That's impossible. Don't sleep until you find her. If you don't have information by morning, submit your resignation to HR."

I ended the call, the silence of the mansion suddenly oppressive. Upstairs, I needed to see our rooms.

The master suite was exactly as I remembered it - and completely different. Everything was in its place, from the Italian silk curtains to the crystal vases, but the space felt hollow. Empty in a way that had nothing to do with furniture.

I opened the walk-in closet. Rows of designer dresses still hung perfectly pressed, each one selected and purchased to meet the exacting standards of a Parker wife. But the small section of casual wear was conspicuously bare. A few empty hangers where her favorite sweaters should have been. The antique jewelry box on her vanity, untouched for what looked like weeks, fine dust dulling its silver surface.

My fingers traced the edge of the box, 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 hard to fit in.

All abandoned. Like perfectly arranged museum pieces, preserved but lifeless.

Staring at these abandoned treasures, something unfamiliar twisted in my chest. A hollowness I'd never experienced before.

In that moment, a realization hit me: I was just like these discarded luxuries. Things Audrey had once cherished, now left behind without a backward glance. Objects that had lost their meaning to her, abandoned without mercy.

I found myself standing in front of her vanity mirror, staring at the reflection of our bed. How many nights had I come home late to find her curled up there, pretending to be asleep but waiting up anyway?

The bed looked wrong without her novel on the nightstand, without that hideous hand-knitted throw she insisted on keeping. Perfect and cold, like a hotel suite. Like somewhere you stay, not somewhere you live.

When did she stop living here? The thought came unbidden. When did she start planning this exit?

My phone buzzed - another message from Laurel about her "injury" from the gala. I ignored it, sinking onto the edge of the bed.

The night stretched endlessly, sleep impossible in this museum of abandoned gifts and hollow luxury.

Dawn was breaking when Michael called again.

"Mr. Parker, I've located Mrs. Parker."

I sat up immediately, stiff from hours of restless waiting. "Where is she?"

"She's... she's at Mayo Clinic."

I was stunned. Mayo Clinic - the premier medical facility in New York, known for handling the most serious cases. Specialists in cancer and critical conditions.

"Mayo Clinic? What's she doing there?"

"Through special channels, I accessed her admission records." Michael's hesitation was palpable. "They show... she was admitted overnight for a minor cut, concerned about potential infection."

A laugh escaped me, harsh and bitter. "A cut warrants admission to the most prestigious hospital in New York? She's clearly trying to make me think she's seriously ill."

But even as the words left my mouth, something cold settled in my chest. Mayo Clinic didn't admit people for minor cuts, no matter how wealthy they were. And Audrey had never been one for dramatic gestures or manipulation.

"Get me her room number," I ordered.

"Of course, sir. I'll have it ready by the time you arrive at Mayo Clinic."

I stood to leave, but something made me pause. Opening the bottom drawer of my desk, I reached for a small jewelry box tucked away in the far corner. Inside lay the ten-carat diamond ring - our wedding ring. Her wedding ring.

She used to treat this ring like a treasure, taking it out periodically just to wear it and take photos. Then she'd carefully, almost reverently, put it back in its box.

Looking at the ring now, I couldn't help but remember her face, eyes filled with pure joy every time she wore it.

With sudden irritation, I snapped the box shut and shoved it into my pocket with those papers before striding out of the room.

What on earth do you want, Audrey Sinclair? For the first time in our marriage, I wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do.

Minutes later, I stood outside the 2306 room at Mayo Clinic. The jewelry box felt heavy in my hand as I prepared to confront her. But voices from inside made me pause.

Astrid was there, and I suddenly wanted to hear their conversation.

I put the box back into my pocket. Leaning closer to the door, I caught a familiar voice. "Maybe I should have chosen James."

Audrey!