Chapter 3A Valentine's Prescription for Divorce

From that day on, David never brought up Amber Hartley again.

He performed the role of the model husband perfectly: coming home on time, helping our son with homework, handing over his paycheck, and even letting me scroll through his phone whenever I wanted.

Three months later, David pushed open the bedroom door looking utterly exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating.

"What's wrong?" I asked, closing my book.

"Clara… there’s something I need to discuss with you." He rubbed his temples. "Amber Hartley was fired from the hospital."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"They claim… she violated operating procedures, leading to a minor medical malpractice issue. But I know it’s because people in the department are pushing her out. She’s too blunt and offended the wrong person."

David sighed heavily.

"Her family is buried in debt, and her landlord just kicked her out. A young girl wandering the streets in the middle of the night… I almost hit her driving back just now. I can't just leave her out there."

My heart sank, bit by bit. "So?"

"I was thinking, isn't our guest room empty? Let her stay for a little while, just until she finds a new job or saves enough for a deposit. Do this as a favor to me, okay?"

David walked over, took my hand, his eyes full of pleading. "She was my student, after all. If something really happened to her, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Live with himself? More like he was heartbroken for her.

I sighed helplessly. "Since you’ve already put it that way, what can I say? But I have one condition: we must set ground rules. This cannot affect Leo."

"Absolutely! Clara, you are the best."

David hugged me, visibly relieved.

That night, Amber Hartley walked through the door dragging a battered suitcase.

She acted very industrious, scrambling to do chores, bowing and scraping before me.

But I had already installed the most hidden pinhole cameras in the living room, dining room, and even on the bookshelf in our bedroom.

After installing the cameras, I made an excuse to take our son Leo to stay at my mother’s place for a few days.

Before I left, David kissed my forehead tenderly, telling me to drive carefully.

Sitting on the sofa at my mother's house, I opened the real-time monitoring app on my phone.

David came home from work.

Amber was wearing a silk nightgown that barely covered her thighs, with no bra underneath.

She paced around the living room, holding a glass of red wine.

The moment David walked in the door, Amber wrapped herself around him.

"Dr. Sterling, you're finally back. Mrs. Sterling isn't home, and this house is terrifyingly cold."

David pushed her slightly. "Amber, don't be like this."

Amber's voice came through the speaker.

"Dr. Sterling, you've eaten so many steaks with me. I don't believe you've never felt anything. You clearly love me. Why stay with that woman who only knows how to stay home and raise a child?"

"She does it for this family…"

David’s defense was pathetic and weak.

"She does it for the money!"

Amber ripped off David’s tie, lifting her face to kiss his neck.

"If you didn't have your current status, would she willingly stay at home? Only I… I truly admire you, Professor… Take me…"

David’s hand ultimately settled on her waist.

They engaged in intimacy all the way from the sofa to our master bedroom bed.

On the silk sheets I had meticulously selected, they freely vented their desires.

David’s voice panted, with a wildness I had never heard before: "Amber… you are so much more flavorful…"

I shut off my phone, my fingertips ice cold.

David Sterling, since you’ve chosen this path, prepare to leave this marriage with nothing.