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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE_ LUCIAN’S POV

作者: Claire Ree
last update 公開日: 2026-03-07 23:40:31
I stepped out of the car without looking at the reporters still lingering behind the gates, with large microphones and even larger cameras. The mansion doors opened before I reached them.

Inside, the air felt as controlled as everything else in my life was.

My phone vibrated again. And again. And again.

I did not check it until I reached my study.

I removed my jacket first, then loosened my tie next. Then I finally looked at the screen of my phone.

Notifications stacked over each
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コメント (4)
goodnovel comment avatar
ahnkitomi
when people win with little effort for a long time they do get sloppy tbf
goodnovel comment avatar
Audrey Fidalgo
She is the Mistress…she is too invested in marrying into the money.
goodnovel comment avatar
The99&2000
Eva isn't even remotely interested in ensuring her tracks are covered lol
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  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-EIGHT_ CLAIRE’S POV

    I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince myself that two weeks wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it was difficult to believe. Every time I looked at the calendar, I saw the same thing. Fourteen days. Fourteen days for Eva’s lawyers to prepare. Fourteen days for Hart Sullivan to decide whether he was really going to testify— and whom he would testify for. Fourteen days for Eva to find another way to manipulate him. I hated how much power that woman still seemed to have over everyone around her. The thought of her manipulating Hart brought back old, ugly memories from my last days in the Dhark mansion. By the time I left the office, I had developed a slight headache. It got worse while I drove to the hospital. I needed to see Lucian. Maybe it was immature , but every time I saw him, the chaos in my head seemed to quiet down. I stopped in my tracks when I walked into his room. He was sitting upright— actually sitting. Today, he wasn’t slumped

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN_ CLAIRE’S POV

    The messages weren’t even always dramatic. That was what disturbed me most. She could ask him to investigate someone in the same tone another person might use to ask their assistant to book a restaurant. And Hart would do it. No hesitation, no questions. One particular message caught my eye. “I need you to deal with this before it reaches Lucian. Hart’s response came minutes later. “So what if it reaches the douchebag?“ Then he added, “But consider it handled.” I stared at the words. “Margot…” “I know.” The corners of my mouth lifted. “This could win this whole case.” “It could.” Margot affirmed carefully. But something was still not adding up. “Why would he give you this?” Margot slowly locked the phone. “I think he was giving us something.” “Or Eva is giving us something.” I added. Margot raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “I mean Hart might still be working for her.” I reasoned. Judging by all the information we had gathered, Hart was fana

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SIX_ CLAIRE’S POV

    By the time I arrived at Sinclair & Co. the next morning, I had barely gotten any sleep. Margot’s phone call had kept me awake for most of the night. It wasn’t because Hart wanted to testify for Eva— that part had been bad enough. But what really bothered me was the uncertainty. Somehow, I knew something had happened between Margot and Hart— something she had deliberately refused to tell me over the phone. And now I was determined to find out what. I barely acknowledged the receptionist as I walked through the lobby. “Good morning, Ms. Moreau.” “Morning.” My heels clicked against the marble floor as I headed toward the elevators. I reached Margot’s floor less than a minute later. Her office door was already open. I didn’t bother knocking. “Margot?” I called as I walked in. She looked up from her desk. “Good morning, Claire.” I stopped. Something immediately felt wrong. Margot looked tired— more than tired. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE_ CLAIRE’S POV

    By the time I got home, I was too tired to think. Absentminded, I dropped my handbag on the sofa and stood in the middle of my apartment for a few seconds, simply enjoying the silence. Being in the courtroom had always been my dream job. But sometimes, I didn’t want to deal with lawyers. With reporters shouting questions. With a judge asking me to explain another piece of evidence. Right now, I needed the silence. I exhaled slowly. For the first time in what felt like months, I allowed myself to believe that this nightmare might actually have an ending. Maybe not an easy one— not after everything that had happened— but an ending regardless. I went straight to the bathroom. The hot water felt therapeutic against my skin. I stood beneath the shower for longer than I intended, letting the day’s exhaustion slowly drain out of me. My mind still wandered back to Hart Sullivan. To Margot who was probably currently interrogating him. She believed there was a chance

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    Hart stared at me for a long time. Then, he burst into laughter. It wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter. “You really think you can turn me against her.” He looked at me like I was the crazy one. I heaved a sigh. “I don’t need to turn you against anyone.” “That’s exactly what you’re trying to do.” “No.” I shook my head. “I’m trying to show you what happens when you keep standing in front of someone else’s consequences.” His expression hardened. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Eva.” “You’re right, I don’t.” I paused. “But I know enough about Eva.” That seemed to silence him. I continued. “I know she has spent years getting people to do things she didn’t want her name attached to.” Hart’s jaw tightened. “I know she knows exactly which weaknesses to exploit.” His eyes flickered at that. “And I know that when things started falling apart, she began protecting herself.” He leaned back in his chair. “I see you’ve been talking to your mente

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    I studied him. Hart Sullivan looked older than he had the last time I’d seen him. Perhaps prison did that to people. Or perhaps guilt did.Though I wasn’t sure Hart Sullivan possessed enough guilt to be burdened by it. “I came because of tomorrow.” His jaw tightened. “What about tomorrow?” “The trial.” “I know when the trial is.” “Then you know you’re expected to testify.” He looked away. “On Eva’s behalf.” His eyes returned to mine. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he said quietly: “Claire already came to see me.” “I know.” “She gave me her card.” “I know.” “She told me to call if I changed my mind.” I nodded. “And you didn’t.” “No.” “Why?” His expression hardened. “Because I don’t betray people I love.” I almost laughed. But I didn’t. Not because the statement wasn’t absurd. Because I suspected he genuinely believed it. “You’ve spent months hurting people on Eva’s behalf.” “I made my own choices.” “Yes.” That answer seemed to su

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