# Noah Lancaster's POV#
The whiskey burns as I pour another glass. My third? Fourth? I've lost count.
My phone buzzes with a message from Marcus. *Sir, she's back at the hospital. Same revealing dress. Curtains drawn again.*
The glass nearly slips from my hand. Again. She went back to him again.
I dial Marcus immediately. "How long this time?"
"Two hours and counting, sir. The nurses are starting to gossip."
Two hours. While I sit here like an idiot, believing her lies about working late.
"Sir? Should I continue surveillance?"
"Yes. Document everything."
I hang up and stare at the shattered remains of my previous phone scattered across the floor. The replacement already feels heavy in my palm.
This is killing me. The waiting. The pretending. The watching my wife fall in love with another man while I play the oblivious husband.
