Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270

“Sir, Michael said, “that mother and daughter from the hospital called. The mother said her daughter only vomited once more

today, after meeting you.”

“Sir, why are you interested in this girl’s symptoms?”

I sank onto the sofa. “She has the same condition as Laurel. I spent twelve hours with Laurel today, and she didn’t vomit blood once. Her energy was good, and eating didn’t cause any real reaction.”

“You’re comparing their symptoms?” Michael caught on. “You think Miss Rose is faking?”

“But we’ve seen her medical data. Specialists confirmed she has late-stage cancer.”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” I admitted.

Laurel doesn’t act like someone dying of cancer. She’s too energetic, too bright. I’ve had doubts before, but those medical readings always convinced me.

I hung up and heard footsteps on the stairs.

Audrey walked down, her short hair framing her face in the dim light.

“Laurel Rose is faking it,” she said.

I straightened. “What makes you say that?”

“Mayo Clinic’s largest shareholder is the Hayes family,” she said, taking the last few steps. “If she wanted real cancer patient data to show you, they’d make it happen. You’d never spot the difference.”

“But her monitoring data matched everything they provided.”

“Easy to arrange,” Audrey said with a short laugh. “Pay off a real terminal patient, tweak the backend systems to send their data to Laurel’s monitors, and you’ve got a perfect setup.”

She sat beside me and poured herself tea.

“You’ve all been fooled,” she said, taking a sip.

“Is this just theory, or do you know something?” I asked.

Audrey met my eyes directly. “What do you think? You’re the CEO of Parker Group. If you’re suspicious, investigating would be simple.

She held my gaze steadily, her expression calm and certain.

I watched her without responding, studying her face.

Audrey frowned and reached for the teapot again. As she leaned forward, the strap of her nightgown slid down her shoulder, exposing more skin than she intended.

She didn’t panic or make a scene – just finished pouring her tea before casually fixing the strap.

When she tried to pick up her cup, I grabbed it first.

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“Hey!” she protested as I drank her tea in one go.

A drop escaped my mouth, sliding down to my collarbone. I noticed her eyes follow it before she quickly looked away.

“If you wanted tea, you could’ve poured your own,” she muttered.

“You always made the best tea,” I said.

She started to turn toward me, probably to argue, but I didn’t give her the chance. I cupped her face and kissed her.

“It’s been a while,” I whispered against her ear, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her up.

I carried her upstairs to the bedroom, ignoring her half-hearted protests.

That night felt like reclaiming something I’d lost.

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