Todos los capítulos de The Wife He Threw Away : Capítulo 281 - Capítulo 290

For the past few days, I hadn’t been getting near enough sleep. Not after Hart Sullivan’s hands had closed around my throat. Not after Claire had called me, informing me of the call she’d received from Hart. Apparently he’d called Claire that night, and offered to testify against Eva. The evidence he’d handed me was another variable that kept me up at night. Still, when I arrived at the police station the following morning, I forced myself to push all of that aside. A courtroom wasn’t the place for emotions. Neither was an interrogation room. I had spent too many years in this profession to let personal feelings interfere with judgment. Unfortunately, Eva and Hart Sullivan made that difficult. Claire and I were seated across from each other in the interrogation room. She looked completely exhausted. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t have to take a second look at her to know she’d barely slept. She kept staring at the table, her fingers tapping against her knee.

I had spent the better part of the week pretending I wasn’t planning a birthday party. Mostly because I didn’t want Lucian to know. The problem was that keeping secrets from Lucian Dhark had never been particularly easy. The man noticed everything— be it a misplaced document, a change in someone’s tone, a discrepancy of a few thousand dollars in a financial report, or something as ridiculous as a missing cufflink. Apparently, however, he had yet to realize that half the staff at his mansion had been sneaking around preparing his birthday celebration behind his back. I would count that as a victory. “Are you sure this is enough?” I asked Camilla. She looked around the terrace. “I think you’ve already gone far beyond enough.” I smiled. Perhaps she was right. The terrace looked nothing like it had when I’d first returned to the mansion. The furniture had been rearranged. A long dining table was stretched beneath the pergola, covered in crisp white linen. Warm lights had been

“Claire?” Lucian’s voice cut through the fog. I looked at up him, even though my vision was a little blurry. “What happened?” “Nothing.” I lied. Because what else could I say? My voice sounded weaker than I’d intended. “Sit down.” I obeyed. “You were about to fall.” He observed. “I wasn’t.” I lied again. Lucian raised a brow. I sighed. “Okay. Maybe I was a little dizzy.” His expression immediately became serious. “Are you sick?” He asked, as he put his palm against the side of my neck, checking my temperature. “No.” “Then what is it?” “I don’t know.” He reached for my hand. His palm was warm against mine. “Do you want to go upstairs?” I shook my head. “I just need the bathroom.” “I’ll come with you.” I stared at him. “To the bathroom?” “Yes.” I laughed despite myself. “Absolutely not.” “Claire—” “I’ll be fine.” He hesitated. I squeezed his hand. “Five minutes.” His eyes narrowed. “You’d better come back.” “Yes,

I left the mansion immediately after breakfast. I told myself it was because I had work to do— that wasn’t entirely a lie. But the real reason was sitting inside my handbag. The pregnancy test. I had barely spoken during breakfast. I found myself brushing my fingers against the strap of my handbag every few minutes, as though I needed to reassure myself that it was still there. I had spent years imagining what it would feel like to walk into a hospital and hear a doctor tell me I was pregnant. Now that I was actually doing it, I found it terrifying. What if the test had been wrong? I’ve heard of a few cases like that. What if— I forced myself to stop. I was doing it again; creating disasters before they even happened. So after breakfast with Lucian, I drove to the hospital. Alone. ⸻ The waiting room was surprisingly quiet. I sat there with my hands folded over my handbag, watching people come and go. A tall woman walked past me holding a sleeping newbor

I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It followed me through every corridor of Sinclair & Co. It followed me into every meeting, into every conversation. Every time I looked toward the windows, I found myself wondering if there was someone standing across the street. I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid. After all, I had spent the morning discovering that I was six weeks pregnant. I should have been thinking about the baby. About Lucian and how I was going to tell him. I should have been thinking about the future I had never thought I’d imagined for so long, but never thought I’d have. Instead, I kept thinking about that envelope. ‘Congratulations, Claire.’ ‘Six weeks already.’ I couldn’t get my mind off that photograph of me leaving the hospital that morning. Someone had been watching me. Someone had followed me. And somehow, they already knew I was pregnant. For several minutes, I stared at the documents on my desk. But the words