Chapter 2

Sherry's POV

When I got home, I hadn't expected Albert to walk in right after me. To my surprise, he approached me with an unfamiliar, almost animalistic desire radiating from him.

"It's been almost a month since we last had sex. Haven't you been wanting it this whole time?"

I couldn't believe it. After I'd witnessed the ugly truth with my own eyes, this was how he intended to brush me off.

I struggled to break free and shout at him, "Don't touch me! I saw Ellie just now. Don't you think you have some explaining to do?"

In the past, he'd immediately try to find a way to comfort me whenever I got upset.

Now, all I saw on his face was an annoyed expression.

He said impatiently, "What's done is done. Ellie has a bright future ahead of her. Don't make things difficult for her."

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to find my voice for a long moment. "What about my mom? Does it not matter that she'll spend the rest of her life paralyzed and bedridden?"

Albert pressed his fingers against his temples wearily. "Don't forget that I'm the only one who can perform Bernice's monthly rehabilitation treatment."

I could hardly believe my ears. His threat came through loud and clear.

Back when Mom had been critically ill, I'd waited outside the operating room for three days.

Albert had pushed himself to the brink of collapse while performing her surgery. Even then, he'd found time to make me soup and feed me himself.

He had said, "Bernice wouldn't want to see you suffer like this. Leave everything to me."

I'd once believed he was the one person in the world I could always depend on.

Albert was about to say something else when his phone suddenly rang. He answered immediately. When he spoke to Ellie in a hushed voice, his tone was so gentle and tender. That tone was foreign and unfamiliar to me.

Just as he was about to leave, he paused. "What was that surprise you mentioned earlier?"

I stroked my belly gently. The truth I'd wanted to tell him died on the tip of my tongue.

Finally, I muttered, "It was nothing."

Albert was too preoccupied to press me for details. Without even saying goodbye, he hurried out the door.

A short while later, my phone began buzzing with incoming messages. One photo after another appeared on my screen. Each showed Albert and Ellie in bed together, with the names of hotels in different countries marked on the pictures.

I'd kept every souvenir Albert had brought me from his business trips carefully and displayed them in a sealed glass cabinet.

Now, I learned belatedly that every single gift was a mark of their secret affair. They were nothing more than Albert's way of making up for cheating on me.

Suppressing the nausea churning in my stomach, I began packing my things. Once Mom had completed her final rehabilitation treatment, I would take her and leave.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by an unexpected call from the hospital. "Ms. Lourd, your mother's old condition has flared up earlier than expected. Only Dr. Shearer can perform the surgery, but we haven't been able to reach him."

I rushed to the hospital.

I could barely hear Mom's weak voice as she spoke through her oxygen mask. "Sherry, don't beg him for my sake."

I shook my head in despair, feeling utterly helpless.

The doctor began urging me to hurry. "You're his wife. He might answer if you call him."

My hands trembled as I dialed Albert's number. A feeling of dread intensified in my heart.

But each time, the same cold, automated voice answered. Despair poured over me like a bucket of ice water.

Unwilling to give up, I kept calling until my phone was almost out of battery.

The substitute surgeon in the operating room was sweating profusely. He came out several times to remind me of the situation.

"I only have a ten percent chance of success. Please ask Dr. Shearer to come as soon as possible."

I crumpled to the floor hysterically.

20 minutes later, Albert finally called back.

My accusation burst out before I could stop myself. "Albert, why aren't you here to operate on my mom?"

However, it was Ellie's smug voice that came through the phone instead. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Shearer. I twisted my ankle earlier, so Albert has been giving me a massage."

She let out a soft, coquettish whimper. "Easy! That hurts!"

If I hadn't seen those explicit photos with my own eyes, I might still have been foolish enough to believe he was genuinely just giving her a massage.

The next second, Albert snatched the phone away from her and snapped impatiently, "Your mother's surgery isn't until tomorrow. Stop pulling these cheap tricks out of jealousy! Don't call me again!"