The Wife He Threw Away

“Mr. Dhark, we need to discuss the company’s long-term succession plan.” One of the board members began. I immediately frowned, not bothering to look up from the document lying on the table in front of me. I didn’t need to, because I knew exactly where this conversation was going. Another board member cleared his throat. “Public image matters, Mr. Dhark. You’re thirty-six and investors value stability. An heir would reassure them.” Lifting my gaze slowly, I tried to remain calm and composed. “My marriage and my family will not be discussed by this board.” The board members exchanged knowing glances. “With due respect, Mr. Dhark,” another board member added carefully. “It’s been five years since your marriage to Claire Moreau… yet she has not conceived. I believe it is time to evaluate the reason.” The word ‘evaluate’ hit me like a slap. As if Claire was a failing business asset that needed evaluation or replacement. “If the issue is from your wife,” He continued.

The gala dragged on for longer than any other event I had attended. I waited till it was officially over, all because Lucian’s assistant had sent me a message: “Mr. Dhark will pick you up when the event is over.” These days, my husband preferred to communicate with me through his assistant. Never directly. All I could do was obey and wait. Guests started leaving, laughing, hugging, exchanging business cards. The violins stopped playing and the lights dimmed, yet I still waited. I looked at my phone screen every few minutes. 11:00pm. 11:27pm. 11:49:pm. The Lucian I married was ruthlessly punctual. But tonight, for some reason, he was late. The women’s gossip rang in my head. “Eva left early. She said she had to meet someone very important.” My stomach churned. I moved towards the exit, searching for fresh air, when a familiar face caught my eye _ one I had seen several times in newspapers. It was Margot Sinclair; top defense attorney. A respect

I expected the headlines to slow down after a few hours. But instead, they multiplied. CEO’S WIFE UNABLE TO CONCEIVE — SOURCES CONFIRM. DARK CLOUD OVER DHARK SUCCESSION. I closed the article without finishing it. There was nothing new to read. My assistant knocked once before entering. “Mr Dhark,” she called carefully. “The board is waiting.” I knew what I was stepping into before I walked in. The conference room was already full_ every seat was taken. The air was thick with tension. The headlines about Claire’s condition slid across glowing screens. It was what my father would call a corporate catastrophe. I took my seat at the head of the table, without reacting. Claire’s name was not mentioned at first, but it was obvious she would be the topic of discussion. The chairman didn’t waste any time. “We need to address the situation.” He pointed at the screen. “This is a threat to your legacy and our market.” “Your succession has always been a concern,” a

Eva settled in as if she had always been a part of the mansion. But it didn’t happen all at once. No, it was a gradual transition. A kind of conquest that didn’t make loud announcements, but was so obvious… so suffocating. By the second morning, her luggage had been unpacked into the east wing. On the third morning, fresh flowers, sent from multiple adoring fans, appeared in the sitting room_ she claimed it was a routine. By the fourth, the mansion’s staff had adjusted their routines around her preferences. I noticed it in the way Camilla avoided my eyes now. In the way Eva took my place, beside Lucian at the breakfast table. Meals were prepared and served earlier, as Eva claimed her doctor suggested. Lucian himself barely spoke to me. When he did, it was brief and practical. Almost professional. Devoid of anything that resembled emotion. Eva, on the other hand, spoke very often. “Claire,” she called one morning, her voice carrying easily across the hal

I woke before dawn. My sleep had been fitful and restless. I kept waking at intervals, just to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. For a brief, foolish second, I forgot where I was. I forgot the headlines. I forgot that another woman now occupied my home. I could almost see myself in Margot Sinclair’s law firm, analyzing legal cases, preparing for trials with a team of attorneys. Then I heard footsteps. A door slamming. They snapped me back into reality. I wasn’t in Margot Sinclair’s law firm. At least not yet. I was in the Dhark mansion, with the divorce papers folded neatly on my desk. I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs. Lucian was already gone when I got to the kitchen. No note. No conversation about the divorce papers. I made myself tea and stood by the window, watching the reporters outside the gates. I touched the folder tucked under my arm. My interview materials; crisp and neatly arranged. With my name typed carefully on the top of m