All Chapters of The Wife He Threw Away : Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

I had never entered police headquarters through the back entrance before. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Just a few weeks ago, officers had ushered me in through front doors with polite smiles, apologizing for the inconvenience whenever photographers crowded too close. They had treated me like someone worth protecting. Like someone important. Today, it felt like they were protecting everyone else from me. The black SUV rolled to a stop beside a steel door, far away from the crowds gathered outside the building. Even from inside the car, I could hear them. I could hear the crowd, shouting and chanting. I could hear the reporters calling out my name— not because they wanted an interview, but because they wanted answers. Or blood. One of the officers opened the car door. “This way, Ms. Sterling.” Finally, someone with manners. I stepped out without acknowledging the noise. I knew that if I looked toward it—if I let myself react—they would know they had gotten to me

I had slept for barely three hours. The moment my alarm rang, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling of my apartment. My mind had been replaying yesterday’s testimony over and over again, dissecting every answer Elise had given, every objection Eva’s attorneys had raised, and every expression on the jurors’ faces. Today would be different—it had to be. Yesterday had been about humanity. Today was about money— Paper trails, bank records and corporate fraud. The kind of evidence that didn’t cry, didn’t forget, and couldn’t be intimidated or even dismantled. I dressed more carefully than usual, in a charcoal-grey pantsuit, paired with a white blouse. My hair was pulled into a neat low bun, my makeup minimal. I grabbed the stack of files I’d reviewed twice before dawn and headed for the courthouse. ⸻ The scene outside the courthouse was even worse than yesterday. Television vans lined the street. Reporters crowded behind metal barricades. Even the poli

Walking into the courthouse felt surreal. Less than two weeks ago, I had been lying on the cold concrete floor of an abandoned construction site, taking what I thought would be my last breath. Hart Sullivan’s knife had been buried in my body. I remembered feeling the blood soaking through my clothes. I had watched the sky disappear, and genuinely believed I would never open my eyes again. Yet somehow… I was here. Alive. But every step seemed to serve as a reminder that survival came with a price. The muscles along my left side protested with every movement. My shoulder remained strapped securely in its sling, and despite the pain medication, the bullet wound still burned beneath the bandages. The doctors had been very clear with their instructions. Rest. No unnecessary movement, no stress and no work. Camilla had nearly cried when I told her I intended to come. Even Claire… I smiled faintly at the memory. She hadn’t argued. She’d simply looked at me with

The hallway gradually emptied around us. Claire walked a short distance away with Nathaniel, though I caught the way she glanced over her shoulder every few seconds. A pair of security officers lingered several feet away, pretending not to listen. For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no cameras flashing in our faces. No reporters shouting questions. No audience waiting for someone to perform. Just Eva and me. Eva took a slow breath. “I don’t think I ever thanked you.” I looked at her without saying a word. She gave a small, almost wistful smile. “For everything.” When I didn’t say anything, she continued. “You gave me opportunities I never would’ve had otherwise.” Her gaze drifted somewhere beyond me, as though she were watching an old film only she could see. “The introductions, the connections… the people you introduced me to… honestly, they opened doors I didn’t even know existed.” She laughed softly. “You used to call producers be

When the courthouse doors opened, the noise hit us like a wave. Questions started flying in from every direction before we had even taken three steps. “Mr. Dhark!” “Miss Moreau!” “Did Eva Sterling attempt to negotiate a settlement?” “Are the two of you back together?” “Mr. Dhark, how are you feeling after the attack?” “Miss Moreau, are you confident you’ll win this case?” Flashes exploded so rapidly that they blurred together into one relentless white light. For weeks, I’d stood in front of cameras as an attorney. But somehow, today felt different. Today, they weren’t just looking at the lead counsel in the biggest civil trial in recent memory. They were looking at the woman standing beside Lucian Dhark. I felt his hand brush mine. Instinctively, our fingers intertwined. It wasn’t a performance. Neither of us had even looked at the other. It was simply something… natural. Security tightened around us as we descended the courthouse steps. Officers gu