All Chapters of The Wife He Threw Away : Chapter 271 - Chapter 280

KVEK was only a few minutes away from Sinclair & Co., so I decided to walk. The fresh air helped— a little. At least it gave me something else to focus on besides Hart Sullivan and the two-week gap in our trial. When I stepped into the KVEK building, the receptionist recognized me immediately. “Ms. Moreau.” I smiled. “Hello. Is Nathaniel around?” “He is.” She glanced at her computer. “But the partners are currently in a meeting.” “Oh.” I looked toward the hallway. “How long will they be?” “I’m not sure.” She frowned. “They only started about an hour ago.” I nodded. “I can wait.” She smiled politely. “Of course.” I took a seat in the waiting area. Waiting didn’t bother me today. I had nowhere else I needed to be. Well, technically, I was supposed to be resting. But Margot had never specified what kind of rest she expected from me. I pulled out my phone. Still, there was nothing. No message from Hart, no update on the case. I locked the screen again

Lunch was surprisingly peaceful. At first, we talked about everything except the trial. From the hospital, to my upcoming discharge, life at the Dhark mansion. Even work. And the things we’d do once this nightmare was finally over. Then Claire asked me: “What are you going to do when you get home?” “Work.” I immediately replied. Because there was much of it to be done. She groaned. “Of course.” “I have a company to run.” I stated. “You almost died.” Claire countered. “And?” “And maybe you could take a break.” I smiled. “I’ll consider it.” “You’re lying again.” I shrugged. “Probably.” Claire shook her head in defeat. I watched her for a moment. There was something different about us now— The way we spoke, the way she looked at me, the way she would reach across the table without thinking and touch my hand. It almost felt natural. Like something that had always belonged there. I turned my hand over and intertwined our fingers. She looked down at o

I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. For a moment, I just stood in the hallway. I could still hear the faint hum of the hotel at night. Voices drifted from somewhere downstairs, followed by the occasional sound of footsteps. Eva was waiting for me. Downstairs. At midnight. After everything that had happened between us, I should have woken Lucian. I knew that. But something inside me told me I needed to hear what she wanted first. I tightened the belt of my robe around my waist before walking toward the elevator. Every step I took made my stomach twist a little tighter. I had spent months preparing to take for Eva Sterling to court. I had studied her lies, her schemes, her relationships. The people she’d manipulated, the money she’d stolen, and the evidence she’d tried to destroy. I thought I understood her by now. But standing in an elevator at midnight because she had asked to speak to me privately made me realize something. I didn’t know what Eva

For several seconds, I couldn’t speak. I stared through the windshield, but I wasn’t really seeing the street in front of me anymore. I was seeing Hart. The Hart I’d known for a decade. The man who had always been there. The man who had taken my calls at three in the morning. The man who had never asked me whether something was right or wrong. The man who had simply asked me what needed to be done. And now he was talking about changing. Because of them. Because of Claire. Because of Margot Sinclair. Because of a trial. I clenched my jaw. “Did you give them something?” Silence. My heart began pounding. “Hart.” Nothing. “Did you give Claire something?” Still nothing. I sat up straighter. “Did you give her evidence?” He finally spoke. “Why does it matter?” My stomach twisted. It mattered because I needed to know how much he had told them. It mattered because every piece of evidence could destroy me. It mattered because if Hart had turned, I needed to know bef

The gates opened slowly. I watched them from the back seat, my fingers still intertwined with Lucian’s. For a moment, I wondered if I should ask him to turn around. It wasn’t too late— we could still go back to my apartment. I could make some excuse about needing to prepare for court or having work to finish. But then the car rolled through the gates, and I realized I didn’t actually want to leave. I just didn’t know what it would feel like to come back. The mansion came into view a few seconds later. It looked exactly as I remembered: The wide driveway, the perfectly trimmed hedges, the enormous windows reflecting the afternoon sunlight, the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. Everything was familiar. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t. The car came to a stop. Before I could reach for the door, Lucian’s hand squeezed mine. “You okay?” I nodded. “I think so.” Lucian studied my face for a moment longer. “If you want to leave—” “I don’t.” I answered quickly.