Chapter 2

My stomach churned, and a wave of nausea rose up inside me.

Never in a million years would I have guessed that Lucy's affair was with an old man old enough to be her father.

I clamped a hand over my mouth and stumbled home, utterly shattered.

On the sofa, one corner of Lucy's tablet stuck out. I'd bought it for her, to look up references and write up her case notes.

In a daze, I picked it up and entered our anniversary as the password to unlock it, and my heart went stone-cold.

Her secret messaging account was logged in, and the pinned contact was labeled "My Professor Chavez."

With trembling hands I opened the message logs, and the more I read, the heavier the horns on my head felt, until I could barely breathe.

"I can't take it anymore."

"That's the idea. I bought you some clothes—wear them to the office next time you're on the night shift."

"Between me and your wife, who's better?"

"How could that worn-out old hag compare to you? With looks and a figure like yours, what man wouldn't be tempted?"

"No wonder you're always calling me in for overtime at the office. So that's the real reason."

"The hospital's got too many eyes around, it's no fun at all. Let's go to a hotel after work tonight, I'm about to burst!"

"You're so embarrassing, stop it..."

A chill ran through my whole body. I couldn't believe these filthy, explicit words came from the girlfriend I'd seen as innocent and sweet, the one who blushed even when she acted coy.

What choked me even more was that they mentioned me right out in the open in their messages.

"David Lambert's a decent enough guy. He's generous with his money, took care of all my papers and case notes for me. It's just that after being together a while, there's no spark left."

"He's just a greenhorn who only knows how to cut people open—what does he know about romance? Better to dump him sooner than later."

"Hmph, if you've got the nerve to divorce that old hag of yours, I'll break up with him right away."

"Sweetheart, don't be like that."

"Can you come to the on-call room on the fourth floor of the inpatient ward right now? I'm here all by myself, I can't take it anymore."

The latest message, sent three hours ago, read: "We're both on night shift tonight—let's go to the morgue, it'll be a thrill."