CHAPTER SEVEN_ Claire’s POV

The mansion felt small. Smaller than it ever had.

I stood by the large glass windows, watching reporters crowd outside the huge iron gates.

Cameras flashed.

Voices carried faintly through the glass.

I could hear them talking about me.

My marriage. My body.

“Infertile”

“Barren”

“Disposable”

I had not left the house since I found out about my medical reports getting leaked.

Every time I reached for the door, my chest tightened with dread, until I couldn’t breathe.

I heard footsteps behind me.

“Mrs. Dhark?”

I turned.

Camilla stood by the doorway, carrying a small tray in her hand. Her presence was comforting. She had worked for the Dharks long before Lucian and I married.

She’d seen me happy. She’d seen me unravel.

“I brought you some tea,” she said, stepping closer. “You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry.” I replied immediately.

She set the tray down. “They’re saying terrible things out there.” She said gently as she stepped even closer to me. “Please don’t listen.”

I laughed weakly. “I didn’t realize the world cared so much about my womb.”

Camilla’s eyes softened with pity. “People can be cruel. Especially in situations like this.”

I stared back out the window, watching the reporters outside the house. “Do you think this was an accident?”

Camilla stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“The leak,” I said slowly. “My medical report. It wasn’t just gossip, it was a document containing my diagnosis. Someone wanted this to go public.”

Camilla didn’t speak for several moments.

Her silence told me everything.

“You think it was her,” I whispered. “Eva.”

The name felt poisonous in my mouth.

“I didn’t say that,” Camilla replied, choosing her words carefully. “But… she is the only one who has any real reason to try to destroy you.”

The front door opened.

I felt him before I even saw him.

Lucian.

I turned just as he stepped into the living room. His presence was commanding. His tie was loosened and he looked exhausted.

Our eyes locked and for a moment, the noise in my head disappeared.

“Claire,” he said quietly.

I didn’t move. I didn’t trust myself to.

He crossed the room slowly, as if he was approaching a fragile thing. “I came as soon as I could.”

“As soon as you could,” I repeated, feeling anger build up inside me. “Days later.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

The word felt small. It felt insufficient. But still, it pierced something in me.

Camilla silently left the room, leaving us alone in the wreckage of our marriage.

Lucian stepped closer. “I should’ve been here.”

“Yes,” I replied. “You should have.”

Silence stretched between us—thick silence. Accusations hung heavy, but no one uttered a word.

Then he reached for my hand.

I should have pulled away.

I didn’t.

His touch was so familiar. So warm and dangerous.

“I never wanted this,” he said quietly. “Any of it.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one paying for it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You’re not.”

I wanted to believe him.

Everything in me told me to trust and love this one man.

That night, we moved around each other like survivors clinging to a drowning ship.

Conversation was soft and careful.

When he kissed me, it wasn’t desperate—it was aching. Maybe even regretful.

I let him pull me close, and rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

For the first time in days, the world felt peaceful.

Yet somewhere deep inside me, something whispered a warning I couldn’t explain.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of running water.

For a moment, panic gripped me. I thought he was gone.

Then Lucian stepped out of the bathroom, with a towel low on his hips, his damp hair falling into his eyes.

I heaved a sigh of relief. Lucian was home. With me.

“You're up early.” He said quietly.

“So are you.”

“I didn’t sleep much.” He admitted, watching me closely. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

My lips parted, but I couldn’t get any words out.

Silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was careful.

We went down to the kitchen together and I watched him make coffee exactly the way I liked it: No milk, extra soy.

He still remembered.

Our fingers touched when he handed me my mug, and my whole body went still.

We drank our coffee in silence, standing dangerously close to each other, but not touching.

Then his phone rang.

Lucian glanced at the screen and frowned. He turned away, lowering his voice.

“I told you not to push this narrative," he spoke sharply. “She’s not making a statement. You'll handle it. That’s an order.”

His expression softened immediately he noticed me watching.

"I'll call you back," he muttered, ending the call.

"Was that about me?" I asked.

"Yes." He spoke without hesitation. "PR will stop the press from harassing you."

"You can't control public cruelty.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened. "You’re my wife. The least I can do is try.”

I almost smiled.

The words shouldn't have meant so much to me, but they did.

Later, I wandered into Lucian’s study. My eyes drifted over shelves I had never dared to touch.

Then I saw it.

A photograph tucked behind a stack of old files. I grabbed it.

It was Lucian as a child. His little arms were wrapped around a beautiful woman with tired eyes.

“She was his mother.” Camilla spoke softly, appearing by the doorway. "Elena Dhark."

I looked up. "He never talks about her."

"He never learned how.” Camilla replied. “Ever since she passed, hospitals haven’t been easy for Mr. Dhark.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the knowledge settle inside me like a missing piece of a puzzle.

Lucian wasn't distant because he didn't care.

He was distant because caring had once destroyed him.

Throughout the day, Lucian stayed close to me. Too close.

Almost like he was afraid the distance would separate us again.

For the first time in months, I felt chosen.

Later at night, he held me in his arms, as if he was scared I would disappear.

“I never wanted to hurt you," Lucian whispered into my hair.

“I believe you.” I replied. “I’ll always believe you.”

I started drifting off to sleep, thinking maybe... just maybe... we could survive this.

Then his phone buzzed.

Lucian went completely still beside me.

“What is it?" I asked, still fighting sleep.

He didn't answer. I don’t think he even heard me.

The message he was reading drained all the color from his face.

Somehow, I knew that whatever message he'd just received would destroy us both.