The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 140

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY LUCIAN’S POV

I had seen crises before-

Market crashes, hostile takeovers, regulatory threats.

But none of them looked like this.

And worse, we all knew this was only the beginning.

The screens in my office moved endlessly, flickering across each and every wall.

News anchors spoke over each other, headlines updated and multiplied in real time, social media feeds surged faster than anything I had seen before.

One would think a royal had been assassinated.

“Dhark Holdings CEO Accused of Abuse.”

“Eva Sterling Speaks Out.”

“Global Outrage Erupts.”

“#CancelDharkTrending.”

My name. Eva’s face.

Over and over again.

No one in my office was seated comfortably.

Not my assistant, not the PR director, not even the legal counsel or the external publicist we had managed to pull in within the hour.

Even the silence between them felt… strained.

The silence in the room was strained; the kind that signaled uncontrollable chaos.

“This isn’t contained locally anymore.”

My assistant spoke, her voice cutting through the noise from the devices.

She paused, before lowering her voice even more. “It’s global.”

Of course it was.

Eva Sterling wasn’t just famous. She was loved.

I didn’t need anyone to say it out loud.

The public would choose her.

They always did.

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The country’s sweetheart. The victim.

Against me- the man who built an empire by being ruthless and feared.

“European outlets picked it up an hour ago,” the PR director said, flipping through updates on his phone.” Asia’s already reacting. Early market sentiment is unstable.”

“Sponsors?” I asked.

“They’re… reviewing.”

In most cases, that would mean they were preparing to withdraw.

“PR firms have been calling nonstop. News outlets have been even more incessant.” The publicist added. “Everyone wants a statement. Now.”

“We need one,” the PR director agreed.

“No,” legal cut in sharply. “No admission, no emotional response. It reads like an admission of guilt.”

“Silence will look like guilt, regardless.” A board representative countered.

“And a rushed statement will confirm it,” legal fired back.

Defend, deny, delay.

Three strategies.

All flawed.

I didn’t interrupt them as they reasoned and argued and spoke over one another.

I only listened.

“External representation,” legal said, turning slightly toward me. “We need to lock that down first, and immediately.”

“KVEK is the obvious choice,” my assistant added.

The room paused-considering.

Then someone else spoke.

“What about Sinclair & Co.?”

The suggestion shifted the room- subtly, but noticeably.

The PR director leaned forward almost immediately, interested.

“That could work in our favor,” he said. “It changes the narrative. People will start talking about something else.”

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“Or it creates a bigger one,” the publicist countered flatly. “Lucian Dhark accused of abuse-runs to his ex -wife’s firm? Those kind of headlines don’t just serve as a distraction. That’s a full other scandal.”

“It looks manipulative,” legal added, agreeing with the publicist. “And personal.”

“It drags her into this,” My assistant added. I didn’t need to ask who was being spoken of. “Publicly and

messily.”

Silence followed.

Then every eye in the room turned to me.

For a second-just a second-my mind drifted.

Claire.

In court, composed and sharp. Unshaken, even.

And on the news-rising.

She was rising, while I was falling.

Poetic justice, one might say.

I exhaled slowly.

For once, wanting her near me wasn’t enough reason to pull her into the wreckage that surrounded me.

So I already knew the answer.

“KVEK,” I announced without hesitation or explanation.

Because I wasn’t going to drag her into this.

Not like this.

The conversation started moving again, faster now. More urgent.

“Options,” legal started. “We need to define our position.”

My assistant who had been keeping track of everything being said, scrolled through her tablet. “OPTION A – Deny publicly.” She stated.

“Risk,” PR said immediately. “Escalation.”

“OPTION B – Stay silent.”

The board representative almost rolled his eyes. “Public assumes guilt.”

“OPTION C- Counterattack.”

“Investigate Eva,” legal said. “Expose any inconsistencies present.”

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“But if we escalate,” legal continued carefully, “this becomes a legal war.”

“It already is.” I said, my voice cutting through the room.

They stilled, choosing to remain silent. Waiting for me to decide.

I leaned back in my chair slightly, then rubbed my temple with the tip of my fingers.

Sharing personal information with people working for me had always felt uncomfortable.

“There’s something else.”

Suddenly, every eye was on me again.

“I suspected Eva was involved in the crash.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Heavy.

“The one that almost killed Claire.” I added, for the sake of specificity.

No one spoke. No one even dared to move.

But I could almost feel the shock radiating off them. Attempted murder and Eva Sterling did not go together.

But they knew I wasn’t the type to throw accusations around careless.

“I intended to take it to the police,” I continued evenly. “But I didn’t.”

“Why?” the PR director asked, more quietly now.

“Publicity,” I answered.

That word alone explained it all.

Legal exhaled slowly.

“We can’t put that out now,” he stated. “It will look like retaliation.”

“Or deflection,” the publicist added. “Like you’re trying to shift attention.”

“It will make you look guilty,” PR finished.

I knew they weren’t wrong.

“How about a press conference,” the board representative suggested quickly. “Get ahead of it. Control the narrative.”

“No,” PR said, shutting it down immediately. “Too performative. The press is already hostile. It will surely backfire.”

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“Not without evidence,” legal added. “You go out there now-you lose control completely.”

“And Eva?” my assistant asked carefully.

The room shifted again.

“If we somehow get her to retract this,” PR spoke slowly, like he was suggesting the impossible, “it dies.”

“Or she records the conversation,” legal countered coldly, “and buries us permanently. If you approach her privately, it can be twisted into intimidation.”

“Leaked and reframed.” The publicist added. “Worsened.”

“Everything becomes worse,” legal finished.

Silence followed- thicker this time.

Then they started talking again. Faster, louder, with their voices overlapping in a way that threatened my

sanity.

“Enough.” I said.

My voice wasn’t raised. It never needed to be.

Everything stopped, and I rose from my seat slowly.

“No emotional response,” I stated. “No rushed decisions.”