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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE_ CLAIRE’S POV

مؤلف: Claire Ree
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-05-20 23:58:45

I woke up to movement outside my apartment— soft footsteps and muffled voices.

For one horrible second, panic flashed through me.

Was Eva here again?

Or perhaps it was the press with their incessant questions.

Then I remembered.

Lucian.

My stomach tightened immediately.

I sat up slowly in bed, still exhausted from everything that had happened yesterday, and stared toward the front door.

Another quiet sound followed.

A woman’s voice.

Camilla.

Relief washed over me.

I had
Claire Ree

Thanks for reading🤗

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

    I woke up to movement outside my apartment— soft footsteps and muffled voices. For one horrible second, panic flashed through me. Was Eva here again? Or perhaps it was the press with their incessant questions. Then I remembered. Lucian. My stomach tightened immediately. I sat up slowly in bed, still exhausted from everything that had happened yesterday, and stared toward the front door. Another quiet sound followed. A woman’s voice. Camilla. Relief washed over me. I had called her barely twenty minutes earlier after finally working up the courage to look through the peephole again and finding Lucian still there. Still asleep against the wall outside my apartment. Still alone, still wearing the same clothes. And still shivering. I had lasted exactly three minutes before guilt gnawed at me enough to make the call. Carefully, I approached the door and unlocked it just enough to peer outside. Camilla was crouched slightly in front of Lucian now, speakin

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FOUR_ LUCIAN’S POV

    The whiskey burned my chest going down. I wouldn’t say it was enough to numb anything. But it was enough to leave heat at the back of my throat. Rain lashed against the windows of the mansion that evening. The city below was glowing, even from the dark glass. The Dhark mansion felt silent. Cold. Empty. I sat alone in the dark with my tie loosened and my sleeves rolled to my elbows, staring at the dark liquid swirling inside the crystal tumbler. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had been drunk— truly. Not like this. Not stripped raw enough for memories to resurface and emotions to torment me. And yet, somehow— despite everything that was happening around me— my mind kept dragging me back to her. Back to the beginning. Back to the first night I met Claire Moreau. It had been raining then too. That was the first thing I remembered. The rain had been heavy enough to flood the sidewalks, while people hurried past beneath umbrellas without looking

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE_ CLAIRE’S POV

    I woke with a painful cough lodged in my throat. The sharp, harsh scent of antiseptic hit me first. Then the pounding in my head, white ceiling and hospital lights. For one disoriented second, I couldn’t remember where I was. Then everything crashed back at once. Margot’s office. The gas. The masked man. Lucian! My body jerked upright immediately. “Claire.” Nathaniel was beside me in an instant. Relief flooded his face so fast it almost hurt to look at. “You’re okay,” he said, letting out a tired breath. His hands were already on me, checking my shoulders, my face, my arms… like he needed physical confirmation that I was actually there and safe. “You could’ve died.” His tone told me one thing: he had been terrified. And suddenly I realized how pale he looked. How exhausted. How tightly wound. “I’m okay,” I said quickly, though my throat still burned. “I’m okay.” Nathaniel exhaled shakily before dragging a hand through his hair. “What the he

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO_ CLAIRE’S POV

    Lucian Dhark still changed rooms. Even now— even with his empire collapsing publicly. Even with the media tearing him apart daily. Even with the whole country convinced he was some violent monster hiding behind expensive suits and generational wealth. The moment he walked into Sinclair & Co, conversations shifted. People stared. Associates paused mid-step, assistants looked up from their desks. And Lucian? Lucian carried himself like none of it touched him. Falling empire or not, Lucian Dhark still moved like he knew the world bent around him. I spotted him through the glass walls of the conference room before stepping out toward him. Something tightened painfully in my chest at the mere sight of him. “You shouldn’t be here,” I said quietly as I approached, his dark eyes finding mine immediately. “Probably not.” But he stayed exactly where he was, the picture of dangerous composure. Only the faint bruising along his jaw from the fight at the hospital hinted that somet

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE_ EVA’S POV

    The moment the call ended, I threw my phone onto the marble counter hard enough for the sound to echo through the penthouse. My chest rose sharply once. Then twice. Then I laughed softly under my breath— not because anything was funny. But because Lucian Dhark had accused me of attempted murder. And worse— he had meant it. The accusation itself didn’t offend me. The fact that he believed it did. I stared out across the room, my lips pursed. The entire country still adored me. Flowers continued arriving by the hour. Brand deals flooded my management team. Public sympathy climbed higher and higher every day. Women cried for me online, sharing their own stories of domestic violence. And the men? They were the best part. They threatened Lucian publicly on my behalf. And yet somehow, everything still felt like it was slipping through my fingers. Because Claire Moreau had refused to disappear. Because Lucian had stopped looking at me like I was innocent. A

  • The Wife He Threw Away    CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY_ LUCIAN’S POV

    I barely got to sleep. At some point during the night, exhaustion had dragged me into unconsciousness for an hour or two at most, but every time I closed my eyes properly— I saw him again. The man in the hospital room. The precision in the way he moved, in the way he fought. The way he adapted instantly. Not amateur— he had to be military. And worst of all— the blade. I adjusted my cufflinks slowly in the mirror as I dressed, feeling jaw clench slightly at the memory. AMTAC. Compact. Black. Designed for close-quarter kills. He had pulled it, but for some reason, he never used it on me. That detail had been circling my mind since last night. Because if he had wanted me dead— I would have been dead. Which meant something else entirely: Margot Sinclair had been the target. Not me. Behind me, the bedroom television started showing the morning financial coverage. “…Langford versus Virex continues drawing national attention after Sinclair & Co succ

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