My Wife Becomes Someone Else's s*x Toy

Chapter 2

After Rachel returned home, we didn't say a word all night. The next morning, the first thing she said to me was to drive her to work.

I got ready without having breakfast and drove her to the clinic.

In the past, no matter how late it was, she would always make breakfast for me, but this time, there was nothing.

I drove in silence while Rachel sat in the backseat, her head down, focused on her phone. It looked like she was chatting with someone.

I didn't know when it started, but she had begun sitting in the backseat. Before, she always preferred the front passenger seat.

This shift reflected the difference between love and indifference in simple details.

Since she got in the car, I had been watching her through the rearview mirror.

I had no idea who she was chatting with, but she hadn't stopped smiling.

She was also unusually cautious, glancing up at me a few times while texting as if she were afraid I'd notice.

The way she acted was typical of someone guilty of something.

So, I felt certain that the person on the other end of the line was her lover.

'Damn it, she's bold enough to chat with her lover right in front of me! We aren't even divorced yet after all.'

Thinking about this made me grip the steering wheel tightly. I felt an urge to make a sharp turn and throw her out of the car.

Rachel's workplace wasn't far; the drive took about ten minutes.

The clinic was quite large, with two or three chief doctors and over ten nurses.

Usually, people came here for minor illnesses, while serious cases were sent to larger hospitals.

As we approached the clinic, Rachel's phone rang. When she answered, I heard a middle-aged man's voice on the other end.

"Hey, sweetheart, remember to come to my office when you arrive. I..."

Before he could finish, Rachel abruptly hung up the phone, panic crossing her face.

She must have accidentally hit the speakerphone; that was the only explanation for me hearing that.

I frowned slightly and turned to look at her. "Who was that?"

Rachel's expression changed quickly; her panic faded and was replaced by a calm facade.

"It was a director at the clinic. I've been taking care of a patient with diabetes, and the director asked me to help him manage his blood sugar."

Seeing her smooth and effortless response left me dumbfounded.

I wondered when she had learned to lie so convincingly. She said it without even batting an eye.

"Really?"

On the surface, she appeared calm and carefree, but I could sense the panic bubbling beneath.

I didn't believe a word she just said.

'Controlling blood sugar? That's nonsense. He clearly called her sweetheart. Does she think I am a fool?'

That intimate and ambiguous term of endearment made it clear that the guy on the other end shared a special connection with her.

Rachel's expression darkened as she heard me.

"What do you think it is then?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off. "Park the car. Don't delay me from getting to work."

Her impatient tone ignited a wave of anger inside me.

Here I was, waking up early and making the effort to drive her to work, and I shouldn't have to endure her insults.

This nonsense couldn't continue.

I needed to propose a divorce so we could go our separate ways.

Of course, if we divorced, she had to pay a price. There was no way I would let her slip away to be with her lover without consequences. No chance.

As soon as the car was parked, Rachel pushed the door open with impatience and got out.

Not even a word to me as she stepped out; instead, she immediately pulled out her phone to continue talking to someone.

The person on the other end was definitely that lover, the one who just called her "sweetheart".

Watching Rachel walk away, my expression grew even darker.