He Let Another Woman Play My Wife, So I Walked Away as His Real Wife Chapter 02

He Let Another Woman Play My Wife, So I Walked Away as His Real Wife Chapter 02

On the third day of the seven-day “experience,” the Whitmores held a family dinner.

Gavin’s mother sent me the address and told me to bring the Whitmore family signet ring traditionally given to those who married into the family.

She had personally placed that ring on my finger on our wedding day.

But I had always known she didn’t like me.

If Gavin hadn’t insisted on marrying me back then, the Whitmores would never have given me a ring reserved for those who married into the family.

I remembered the first time I formally met Gavin’s parents.

At the Whitmore estate, his mother said in front of the rest of the family that my background was not a suitable match for theirs.

Gavin took my hand. His voice was calm, but there was no room for argument.

“She’s the woman I love. Who I marry is my decision. No one else’s.”

Looking back now, the whole scene felt absurd.

My fingers tightened around the ring box.

At least tonight gave me the perfect chance to return the ring to the Whitmore family.

By the time I arrived, Claire was already sitting in what had once been my seat.

There wasn’t even a place set for me at the table. The butler had to bring over another chair and put it at the farthest end.

Gavin’s mother smiled as she explained,

“Claire’s spending these few days as ‘Mrs. Whitmore,’ so of course the family dinner is part of the game too. You’re an adult, Erin. There’s no need to make a fuss over a chair.”

Gavin had also asked the kitchen to redo the menu around Claire’s preferences.

I had a severe peanut allergy.

Yet even after seven years of marriage, peanut cookies still appeared on the Whitmore dining table.

At first, Gavin used to remind everyone. Eventually, all he ever said was that I should avoid them myself.

But because Claire didn’t eat parsley, parsley had never once appeared at a Whitmore family dinner.

That night, when Gavin noticed a few tiny pieces floating in the soup, he immediately had the butler take it away and make another one.

“The smell makes her feel sick.”

Last year, when they let Claire sit in my place for the first time, I got up and walked out.

Gavin chased after me and stopped me. He told me a seat didn’t mean anything, then promised,

“That seat will always be yours.”

This year, I wasn’t even given a seat beside him.

Before the family photo, Gavin’s mother suddenly looked at my right hand.

“Take off the ring. Let Claire wear it for a few minutes. It’ll make the photo look more like a proper family portrait.”

Claire said,

“That wouldn’t be right.”

But her eyes never left the ring, and she was already reaching for it.

Before I could say anything, Gavin took hold of my right hand and slowly slid the ring off my finger.

The band scraped over my knuckle, and the skin reddened almost at once.

He didn’t even look at my hand. Instead, he checked the ring to make sure it hadn’t been scratched.

Then he personally slipped it onto Claire’s right ring finger.

“She’ll give it back in seven days. It’s only a ring. No point arguing over it.”

When it was time for the photo, Claire stood beside Gavin, with his parents seated in front.

I was placed all the way at the edge, almost outside the frame.

The photographer asked everyone to move a little closer together.

Gavin deliberately linked his arm through Claire’s, then glanced back at me.

He was obviously waiting for me to object.

But I only looked at his mother and said,

“She doesn’t need to give the ring back.”

Her expression stiffened.

“Everyone’s just playing along with the game, and you insist on making dinner awkward. You’re making everyone uncomfortable. It’s really not appropriate.”

One relative who had no idea what was actually going on soon posted the family photo in the Whitmore family group chat.

[Finally, everyone’s here this year.]

More relatives began commenting.

Some said Claire and Gavin looked far more like a real couple. Someone even asked whether the two of them might as well go ahead and get married.

Gavin’s mother didn’t correct them. She simply replied to the message with a red heart.

I stared at the Whitmore family group chat I had been part of for seven years.

Then I left it.

Gavin noticed almost immediately.

A message from him appeared on my phone.

[You’re really putting on a convincing act this time.]

Then another.

[Let’s see how many more days you can keep this up.]

He had no idea.

I wasn’t enduring anything.

I was slowly, deliberately separating my belongings, my work, and my entire life from the Whitmore family for good.