Audrey’s POV

The white walls of Mayo Clinic seemed colder than usual today. Or maybe it was just me, sitting in Dr. Evans’ office, staring at my phone screen while waiting for her to return with the test results. The headline on Page Six glared back at me: “Hollywood Starlet Laurel Rose Makes Surprise Return, Greeted by NYC’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”

Most eligible bachelor. I almost laughed at that. The media had no idea Blake Parker, New York’s golden boy and CEO of Parker Group, had been married for the past three years. To me, of all people. The photos showed him at JFK, welcoming her with that smile I used to know so well. When was the last time he smiled at me like that?

Three months. That was all I had left, according to Dr. Evans. Now this. I swiped past another photo of them together, looking every bit like the perfect couple everyone claimed they were.

“Mrs. Parker?” Dr. Evans’ voice pulled me from my thoughts. She never used my married name unless we were alone. To the rest of the world, I was still Audrey Sinclair, the country girl who’d been switched at birth and found her way back to the Sinclair fortune at eighteen. The secret wife wasn’t part of my public story.

I looked up, but I already knew what she was going to say. The gentleness in her eyes said it all.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker. We couldn’t save the baby.”

My hand instinctively went to my stomach. “So… it’s really gone?”

“Due to your cancer, your body is too weak right now.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “We need to end the pregnancy. The sooner, the better.”

I nodded, surprising myself with how calm I felt. Maybe after five years of loving Blake Parker, after three years of a marriage that existed only on paper, after learning I only had a few months left… maybe I had finally run out of tears.

“Can we do it today?”

Dr. Evans blinked, startled by my request. “Yes, but…”

“No painkillers,” I cut her off. “I want to feel everything.”

“Audrey, you don’t have to do this. The pain…”

“Please.” I met her concerned gaze. “I need this.”

The hospital corridors buzzed with whispers as I made my way to the surgical wing. Two nurses huddled by the water cooler, their voices carrying despite their attempts at discretion.

“Did you see Laurel Rose? Three years in Europe, and the moment she’s back, Blake Parker himself picks her up at JFK.”

“Well, they were college sweethearts. He waited three years while she was building her career in Europe. If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.”

If that’s true love, I thought, then what do you call spending three years caring for someone in a coma? What do you call loving someone who’s never loved you back?

But I knew what they’d call it: pathetic. The same thing Blake’s mother called me when I refused to leave his side after the accident. The same thing his sister whispered when I spent nights sleeping in a hospital chair.

The operating room was ready. Dr. Evans made one last attempt to change my mind about the painkillers, but I remained firm. As I lay back on the cold table, I thought about the phone calls I’d made this morning. Five attempts to reach Blake. Five calls that went straight to voicemail. Five chances for him to answer, to be here, to prove me wrong about us.

“Audrey Sinclair! How dare you make this decision without consulting me?”

Of course not, I thought. Laurel would have made sure of that.

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