Chapter 4

The sudden movement almost made Ezra stumble to the floor.

He wasn't angry, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Shermaine, are you really mad at me?"

Shermaine fought to suppress the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach, the urge to vomit almost overwhelming.

She shook her head, pretending to have a headache. "I'm fine. The doctor said I have the flu, and it's contagious. Until I'm better, I should stay in the hospital so I don't give it to you."

Ezra's frown deepened immediately at her words.

"Which doctor said that? No way, Shermaine. You have to come home with me."

He crouched down, taking her hand with reverence and affection, like she was the most precious thing in the world. "If you're not within my sight, I'll worry about you."

So tender, so loving.

He was trying once again to weave a web of sweetness, to deceive her without her noticing.

Shermaine pushed his hand away, forcing a smile that felt weak. "Ezra, don't do this. I'll come home when I'm better."

Ezra saw the determination in her eyes and finally sighed. "Alright, fine."

But the joy in his gaze was nearly impossible to hide.

After all, within the next few days, his secret affair would be a lot easier to manage.

Shermaine felt a wave of sadness.

Such poor acting. How had she not seen through it before?

Her hand, hidden behind her back, still clutched the miscarriage diagnosis, crumpled tightly in her fist.

In the following days, Ezra continued to spend the majority of his time with Shermaine.

Rain or shine, he came to the hospital every day, always attentive, always thoughtful.

The nurses would often comment on how perfect he seemed.

"He's such a handsome guy, looking like a movie star, and he's so good to his wife!"

"Right? He's so protective of her. The other day when I spoke to him, he was cold as ice, but he always mentioned his wife."

"Ugh, I wish I could meet a man like that!"

Shermaine overheard this while she was up, trying to walk around, and a bitter smirk appeared on her lips.

Was he really being caring?

Then why hadn't he even bothered to ask the doctor how she was doing?

Why did he believe that a simple cold could make her suffer so much, causing her stomach to ache every day and her face to remain pale?

His daily attention was just so he could clear his evenings to be with another woman.

Shermaine almost felt exhausted for Ezra.

She quietly stepped to the stairwell and sent the photos from that night—of Ezra and Melanie's affair—to the private detective.

She also messaged her lawyer friend.

[Less than a week left. Please make sure the agreement is ready.]

As she turned around, Shermaine overheard a familiar voice from the hallway.

"Stop it. I have to be with her during the day, but I'll be with you at night, like always. Okay, okay. Just two more hours. Once I give her this afternoon's medication, I'll come to you right away. Don't forget to wear the clothes I bought for you. I want to see them when I get back."

Ezra stood by the window, the cold light streaming in, giving him an almost ethereal, statuesque appearance.

No one would have ever guessed that this seemingly perfect man would speak such intimate words to another woman.

The conversation continued, and Ezra's tone grew more tense and agitated.

"Melanie, don't even think about it. I told you, that's my home with Shermaine. You have no right to interfere."

In the quiet hallway, even without the speaker on, their words could be heard clearly.

Melanie seemed to have started crying, her voice soft and pleading, trying to coax Ezra.

He remained silent, his jaw clenched and his teeth grinding.

Ezra didn't notice Shermaine standing behind him, pale and still.

Just then, a nurse passed by and called out.

"Ms. Stout, you're still recovering. Don't stand in the draft, or you'll catch a cold again."