All Chapters of The Wife He Threw Away : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Hospitals had a way of making even the strongest people look fragile. I stood outside Margot’s hospital room for a moment longer than necessary, feeling my fingers tighten around the strap of my handbag as I looked through the glass panel on the door. Margot Sinclair, the woman who had once dominated every room she entered with sharp wit, and impossible energy now lay pale against white sheets, with tubes attached to her arms. Her breathing shallow but steady. She was alive, thank God. Inside the room, professor Grant sat beside her bed, exhaustion carved deep into his face. Her son stood near the window, speaking quietly with a doctor while her little girl rested her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor like she was afraid to look at her mother for too long. I inhaled slowly before pushing the door open. Margot’s son noticed me first. The room shifted slightly as everyone greeted me quietly. Then Margot turned her head— weakly. Slowly. But she did. Her li

The article spread through KVEK faster than wildfire. By the time the third partner called my office asking for “clarification,” I already knew the damage was irreversible. I stood near the windows overlooking the city, while my phone buzzed relentlessly across the desk behind me. Messages, internal emails and news alerts alike. Every single one attached to the same photographs. Lucian outside Claire’s apartment. Lucian giving her his coat. Lucian opening doors for her. Lucian looking at her like the rest of the world no longer existed. I closed my eyes briefly. Not because the article shocked me— that was the problem. None of it shocked me anymore. But this was the first time my private life was affecting my professional life… and in such scale. A soft knock sounded against my office door before Mark Kennedy stepped inside carefully. For once, even he looked uncomfortable. “That bad?” I asked quietly. Mark let out a heavy breath. “The managing committ

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Rain hammered violently against my windshield, and my pulse refused to settle properly beneath my ribs. Margot was awake. Actually awake! This wasn’t another false alarm, or another flicker of movement. She was fully awake. My hands tightened around the steering wheel as I switched lanes too sharply, barely hearing another driver’s angry horn somewhere behind me. God. After everything— after the accidents, the lies, the attacks— Margot waking up felt almost unreal. By the time I reached the hospital parking lot, my breathing was uneven. I hurried through the entrance, ignoring the curious glances from nurses and visitors who clearly recognized me from the news coverage. The private floor where Margot had been kept under security was quieter than usual tonight. Two armed guards stood outside the corridor entrance— guards hired by Lucian. Of course. One of them nodded immediately when he saw me approaching. “Ms. Morea

The first thing I became aware of was warmth. The second was Lucian. I opened my eyes slowly and found myself curled against his side on the couch, wrapped in a blanket I didn’t remember pulling over myself. At some point during the night, I had clearly shifted closer to him, letting his arm settle around me. And at some point, I must have fallen asleep there. The realization should have comforted me. Instead, something twisted painfully inside my chest. My gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward his suit jacket. A pair of silver cufflinks sat beside it. Dhark Holdings. For some reason, the sight hit me unexpectedly hard. Suddenly, it felt like I wasn’t in my apartment anymore. I was back in court. Back beneath flashing cameras, beneath the relentless gaze of strangers. Back listening to Victoria Merlyn weaponize my fertility like it was public property. Back to hearing the whispers laced with pity and judgement. Humiliation. My stomach tightene

My office overlooked the city. On most days, the view reminded me why I had spent my entire adult life working. But today? Today m it felt meaningless. My attention remained fixed on the financial projections spread across the table before me. Red. There was simply much red. Declining market confidence, falling share prices, and worse, investor withdrawals. Projected losses. The scandal Eva had caused had infected everything it touched. Every headline, every quarterly report, every meeting. For the first time in years, Dhark Holdings wasn’t merely fighting competitors. It was fighting for survival. A knock sounded on my door and after a moment, the door opened. Tessa stepped inside first, tablet in hand. Behind her came Ethan Cole, our public relations director. And finally Sarah McCall, the company’s chief legal counsel. Last was Jonathan Pierce, senior operations executive. They were the people who worked closest to me. The people still willing to