บททั้งหมดของ The Wife He Threw Away : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

The sirens cut through the night like a blade.Blaring, sharp and relentless. I followed them in my car, close enough to see the back doors of the ambulance. But not close enough to make them go faster. Every second felt like minutes. Every red light was ignored. Every turn felt too slow. “She should have been safe.” The thought kept repeating in my head. Because she should have!That was her home once too. By the time we reached the hospital, they were already moving her inside. I was out of the car before the engine fully stopped, and rushing toward my w— Claire. Rushing towards Claire. “Sir—” Security stepped forward automatically, then stopped the instant they recognized me. “Mr. Dhark.” Their tone shifted. Respect. Urgency. Deference. “Clear the hallway,” I instructed. No hesitation. “Yes, sir.” Doors opened, staff moved, the path cleared. I walked in like I owned the building. And of course no one tried to stop me. And behind me? Noise. Shouting. Cameras.

By the time I got back to the mansion, the glass was gone. Not all of it, not completely, but enough that someone who hadn’t been there wouldn’t notice what had happened. The staff moved through the house quickly but quietly— too quietly. The usual rhythm of the mansion—conversation, footsteps, the low hum of activity—had been replaced with something tighter. Every movement now felt measured, every voice lowered. They were watching me, but trying not to make it obvious. It didn’t work. I stepped further into the main hall, my gaze sweeping across the space once—the ceiling, the fixtures, the section that had already been partially restored. Efficient, clean, almost convincing. Almost. “Sir.” My assistant called. “Security footage is ready. All available angles have been compiled.” “Good.” I nodded. “Lock down all access points. No one leaves until I say so.” “Yes, sir.” “Phones stay on. No one deletes anything. I want vendor logs, entry records, internal access—ev

The first thing I felt was pain. It wasn’t sharp at first. It wasn’t immediate. It was distant—like something my body hadn’t fully processed yet. It was a dull, heavy ache that spread over my body slowly. Steadily, until it became impossible to ignore. The second thing I felt was… weight. Not something I could touch, but like something was pressing down on me— holding me in place, keeping me from moving. From thinking. Sounds came next, muffled and distant. Voices, maybe. I couldn’t tell. My lashes fluttered slightly, but everything remained blurry. Shapes without form. The air smelled sterile—clean in a way that didn’t feel comforting. I slowly realized that I was in a hospital. My lips parted were so dry I could feel a crack forming. I tried to part them, but the effort in itself felt strenuous. “…Lucian.” The name slipped out before I could stop it. Before I could even fully think. Silence followed. Then movement. “Claire?” No, that wasn’t Lucian

Hospitals were supposed to feel safe. That was the one thought replaying in my mind, over and over again, as I lay there, staring at the white ceiling. The pain came in waves now. It no longer felt distant, no longer felt dull. It pulsed behind my eyes, settled into my skull, and threaded through my body in a way that made every small movement feel heavy. I shifted slightly against the bed, then winced as the movement pulled at the cuts along my arm. The sting was sharp— like it wanted to remind me I was awake, present. Alive. The room was quiet. When I tried to turn my head, the world tilted slightly before settling again. The lights were dimmed, casting the room in a soft glow that should have been comforting. It wasn’t. I could hear the occasional murmur of voices from outside the door, fading just as quickly as they came. It was already night, somehow. Late enough for things to slow down. My fingers curled slightly against the sheets. And just like at the

By the time my assistant said the breach had been internal, the room had already gone quiet enough to hear people thinking. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. I kept my eyes on Eva. Not the version of her I thought I knew—the polished, composed woman who knew exactly what to say and when to say it—but the one standing in front of me now. The one who had just wished another human being dead without hesitation. Without restraint. There was a difference; a subtle one. But now that I had seen it, I couldn’t unsee it. Inside. The word settled slowly. Not external, not random, not by chance. Someone had done this from within my house, using my system, during an event held under my mother’s name. My gaze shifted slightly_not away from Eva, but through her. Past the performance. Past the carefully controlled anger. I watched for what she couldn’t control. Her shoulders had stiffened slightly. The rise and fall of her breathing was too measured, as if she was forcing it into