Too Late, Mr. Parker

Audrey's POV

Everyone thinks I'm the wild child of the family, the one who won't fall in line.

Blake's the young king of the business world—rational, cold, always in those perfectly cut suits.

But every night, he's got me pinned underneath him, breathing my name.

He said I was his, but never let me see daylight. Until she came back—my father's mistress's daughter, in her white dress, smiling like an angel.

On my birthday, he went to pick her up from the airport. When the chandelier crashed down, he carried her to the hospital and left me bleeding on the floor. When she smashed my mother's heirloom, he made me apologize on my knees. He said she was fragile, needed care; said I was strong enough to understand.

Then I heard them on my bed, her moaning his name.

So I left. Married a man who truly loved me. And he went insane.

Morning light comes through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I watch Blake buttoning his shirt.

"Not gonna stick around a little longer?"

"Got an important lunch." Doesn't even look up.

I sit up. Blake's hands pause, but he goes right back to fixing his tie.

"What lunch?"

"Business partner. You wouldn't know them."

His phone buzzes. He checks it, and there it is—that soft smile I never get. Then he leans down and drops a quick kiss on my forehead.

"I'm heading out."

The door closes. I stare at the ceiling and laugh.

Three years is long enough.

I dial my father's number.

"I'll do it. I'll marry into the Thompson family. But I've got conditions."

Two seconds of silence, then he can barely contain himself. "Name it!"

"Cut me off legally. Sever the father-daughter tie."

"Audrey, why would you—"

"Drop the act." I cut him off. "You put a price tag on me the second you sent me to him, didn't you?"

"What're you talking about? This is all for the family—"

"For the family?" I laugh. "Or for them? Mom died, you moved that woman and her daughter into our house, you packaged me up like I'm for sale—you had this planned all along, right?"

His voice goes cold. "You sure about this?"

"Wire the settlement straight to my account. Then we're done."

I hang up and close my eyes.

Everything comes rushing back.

Three years ago, Dad dragged me to Blake's company.

"This is my daughter. She'll learn business management from you." Dad's smile was pure ass-kissing. "She's too immature. Please look after her."

Blake sat at the conference table going through documents, those cold eyes barely lifting. He glanced at me once, nodded at Dad.

Just like that, I got shipped off to this man's place.

First few months, I tried everything to piss him off. Challenged his decisions in board meetings, broke into his office at night to dig through files, hid important contracts.

He never really got mad.

Once I crashed an executive meeting. All he said was, "She's still young," and had his assistant walk me out.

That night he came to my room for the documents.

I leaned against the doorframe. "You're not mad?"

He stared at me forever. "Go to bed."

Back then I thought he was holding back. Thought he actually cared.

Everything changed one night.

Blake closed a huge deal and brought home wine for once.

"Have a drink with me." First time he'd ever asked.

Dim lighting. He took off his glasses, rubbed his temples, talked about work stress.

I moved closer slowly. He didn't push me away.

The alcohol, the mood, all that built-up tension—it just happened.

Next morning I woke up thinking he'd say something.

Instead: "Don't tell anyone about last night."

I told myself he just couldn't express feelings, that he was protecting us.

My birthday killed that fantasy for good.

I set up this whole candlelit dinner, planning to actually tell him how I felt.

Waited until ten at night. The food went completely cold.

I turned on the TV. There's Blake at the airport picking up this girl in a white coat.

Laurel Rose. Dad's mistress's daughter, the one who's been overseas all these years.

Never crossed my mind that Blake knew her, let alone would pick her up himself. In the shot, he's smiling—this warm smile I've never seen.

I destroyed everything. Blake came home late, saw the mess, and his face was scary calm.

"Why'd you blow me off today?"

"She just got back. She's sick. Needs someone to look after her."

"What about me?!"

He went quiet for a second. "You and she are different."

He called the housekeeper to clean up, told me, "We'll get everything replaced tomorrow."

Right then I finally got it—this whole time, I've been performing a one-woman show.

I have to get out. Stay any longer and I'll lose what's left of my dignity.

I go back to grab my stuff. Dad's in the living room laughing with the girl in the white dress.

Laurel looks even thinner than on TV, showing Dad presents from overseas.

Dad sees me, looks awkward for half a second. "You're back? Even though we cut ties, blood's still blood... Laurel, you've seen pictures, right? This is your sister."

My stepmother jumps in with a smile. "We're all family now."

Family? I glance at the corner—my stuff's dumped by the storage room while Laurel's suitcases are front and center.

Laurel walks over, sizing me up. "Sister, you're even prettier in person. Heard you're getting married? Congrats. Oh, Uncle said your room gets the best light, so I'm staying there for now. You don't mind, do you?"

I ignore her and head straight to what used to be my room. Mom's things are shoved in the back of the closet. I only grab the necklace, her diary, and that one family photo.

On my way out, Laurel calls from the stairs all fake-concerned. "Sister, where're you gonna stay? Want me to book you a hotel?"

I turn around and look at her. "Enjoy the house. It's all yours now."

I check into a hotel downtown and go crazy with Dad's company PR account.

Ten custom gowns, a limited edition sports car, auction paintings, a full year of spa packages.

Simple reason: marrying into money means looking the part.

Dad's call comes screaming in that evening. "Have you lost your mind? Five million in one day!"

"So what?" I stir my coffee slowly. "Didn't you say I'm your daughter? I'm getting ready for the wedding. Isn't this what you wanted? Don't worry, once the settlement hits, I'll pay you back—if you've still got the nerve to take it."

I hang up. Phone rings again.

Blake texts: "Where are you? You're not home."

I stare at the screen forever, type back two words: "I'm busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Personal stuff."

He doesn't reply.

Next day, none of my cards work.

Hotel manager comes by all polite. "Your father's company cancelled your access. You'll need to settle your bill right away, or else..."

I call Dad. His voice is ice. "Since we're not family anymore, stay away from family money. Get your fiancé to pay."

"What about the settlement?"

"It's not through yet. And that's family assets anyway, not your personal cash."

I hang up and laugh.

So from the very start, he never planned on letting me have that money.

I'm standing in the lobby with my luggage, scrolling through contacts looking for someone to call. But all those names look like strangers—those so-called friends only cared about the family name. Now that I'm out on my ass, who's gonna pick up?

Evening comes. Light rain starts falling.

I stand on the street watching people walk by.

So this is what nothing feels like.