Chapter 3

The next morning, Rayford unexpectedly suggested going to the rehab center.

"Cynthia, I've been thinking about it, and maybe I should really increase the intensity of my training," he said at the breakfast table. "Can you come with me?"

I was a bit surprised, but agreed. Before we left, I quietly texted Brittney: [He's going to the rehab center today. Help me check his recent phone records.]

At the rehab center, Cary was seeing other patients. Rayford seemed to follow along well, doing the exercises as instructed. But I noticed that with each movement, he'd glance at the doctor's face, as if waiting for a signal that he was doing it right before continuing.

"Mr. Wallace, your condition looks great today," Cary said, jotting something down in his notebook. "But…"

"But what?" Rayford asked, his tone suddenly tense.

"Given your current progress, some more advanced exercises could be tried. For example, standing with assistance or walking short distances."

I saw Rayford's face change instantly.

"No... I don't think I'm ready for that," he quickly declined. "I'm afraid it might make things worse if I rush it."

Cary raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Wallace, with all due respect, it seems like you're resisting the rehab exercises?"

"No, I'm just…"

Rayford started, but just then, my phone rang. It was Brittney.

"Cynthia, I found something!" Brittney's voice was full of excitement. "From 9 to 11 p.m. last night, Rayford received 23 calls, all from the same number!"

My heart skipped a beat. "Was it Sarah's number?"

"I checked, and it's not. But the number is registered near Serenity Hospital, close to the company."

Serenity Hospital? I thought for a moment. That hospital specialized in mental health treatment.

"Brittney, can you find out whose number it is?"

"I'll look into it further."

I hung up and returned to the rehab room, where Rayford and Cary were still in a tense conversation.

"Dr. Cook, maybe we should call it a day," I suggested, trying to defuse the situation. "I think my husband's a bit tired."

Cary nodded, but just as we were about to leave, he suddenly said, "Ms. Flowers, could we have a quick word privately?"

Rayford immediately became alert. "Why can't you talk in front of me?"

"I just need to discuss your rehabilitation plan with Ms. Flowers, so she can assist with better training at home," Cary explained.

"I'll wait outside." Rayford said, but instead of leaving, he stopped at the door.

I followed Cary into his office and closed the door behind us.

"Ms. Flowers, I have to be completely honest with you," Cary said, looking me in the eye. "Your husband's situation is highly unusual."

"What do you mean?" I pretended not to understand.

"His test results show that his nerve function is completely normal, and his muscle strength isn't an issue. By all medical standards, he should be able to walk normally," Cary said, handing me a report. "But his behavior indicates a strong resistance to rehabilitation. This kind of situation…"

"What kind of situation?"

"It's typically seen in psychogenic disability. Some patients, due to psychological trauma or other reasons, subconsciously resist rehab. But your husband's case seems more like…"

"Like he's faking it?" I finished his thought.

Cary looked at me in surprise. "You've noticed?"

I nodded, deciding to tell him everything. "Doctor, I need your help."

Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the office. Sure enough, Rayford was standing outside, looking slightly anxious.

"What took so long?" he asked.

"The doctor went over some rehab precautions," I answered calmly. "Oh, and Dr. Cook said he'll do a full check-up on you next week, including nerve conduction and muscle activity tests."

Rayford's expression changed. "Why do we need to do that? Didn't we already do it before?"

"Regular check-ups are important so we can adjust your treatment plan if needed," I said casually. "It's no big deal. Why are you so worried?"

On the way home, Rayford was unusually quiet, lost in thought. I pretended not to notice and casually asked, "Honey, are you worried about the results? Honestly, you don't have to be. You've been doing well over the past three years."

"I'm not worried," he quickly denied. "I just don't see the need for so many tests."

"But Dr. Cook said—"

"Cynthia!" He cut me off. "Can you stop always listening to the doctor? I know my body better than anyone!"

This time, I didn't apologize. Instead, I quietly observed him. "Honey, why have you been so short-tempered lately?"

Rayford seemed to realize something and immediately softened his tone. "Sorry, I guess I'm just stressed out. You know, the company's projects have been really demanding lately…"

"Yeah, I know," I said, looking out the window. "I know."

When we got home, Rayford went straight to the study, saying he had some work to catch up on. I heard him on the phone, his voice low and muffled.

I sat in the living room, pulled out my phone, and checked Brittney's message.

[I found something! Last night, the person who called Rayford was Dr. Porter, the head of the psychology department at Serenity Hospital.]

[Why would Rayford be calling the psychology department?]

[I asked around. Dr. Porter specializes in diagnosing malingering and factitious disorders. He's usually hired by companies or insurance firms for investigations.]

My heart sank. Was Rayford consulting someone on how to better fake his disability?

[One more thing,] Brittney's message continued. [Sarah went to the gynecology department yesterday for an exam.]

I froze. [Is she pregnant?]

[I'm not sure, but she definitely went.]

If Sarah was pregnant, Rayford must be in an even bigger rush to divorce me.

Just then, the door to the study opened, and Rayford wheeled himself out.

"Cynthia, I have to meet an important client tomorrow, and I might be late," he said. "Don't wait up for dinner."

"Okay," I nodded. "Where are you meeting?"

Rayford hesitated for a moment. "At... the client's company."

"What company?" I pressed.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" He sounded irritated. "You wouldn't understand company stuff."

In the past, I would have immediately apologized and dropped the subject. But tonight, I just calmly replied, "I just want to know your schedule in case there's an emergency and I need to reach you."

"Just call me if there's an emergency." He said, and with that, he returned to his room.

I sat in the living room, my mind in turmoil. What was Rayford hiding? Besides faking his disability and his relationship with Sarah, what else was he keeping from me?

At 10 p.m., Rayford was still in the guest room. I quietly walked to the door and overheard him talking on the phone.

"... Tomorrow, you need to stall her. Don't let her come to the office... What? She's checking my schedule? Just tell her I'm out of town... Yeah, buy her some gifts, women are easy to handle, just spoil her a little..."

I leaned against the wall, feeling like a ghost. Was I really so easy for him to dismiss?

Back in my room, I made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going to that "important meeting" Rayford mentioned.

I was going to find out exactly what kind of game he was playing.