The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 148

CHAPTERCONE DUNDRED AND FORTY HOHT EVAS POV

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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT_EVA’S POV

My luxurious penthouse overlooked half the city.

Floor-to-ceiling glass, soft gold lighting.

Absolute luxury.

And beneath me?

Absolute chaos.

I sat in the corner of the velvet sectional, with my right leg crossed elegantly over my left, a glass of red wine resting lightly between my fingers as the screens across the room continued flashing nonstop updates.

News anchors, public outrage, social media explosions.

The first publicist I ever had taught me that “sometimes, any publicity is good publicity”.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, as I thought about how good my new movie would do at the box

office.

Because my name was everywhere.

And so was his.

“Dhark Holdings Crisis Deepens.”

“Global Backlash Intensifies.’

“#CancelDharkHoldings surpasses forty million mentions on social media”

I watched another clip of screaming protesters outside Dhark Holdings before taking a slow sip of wine.

Calmly.

Power was never about love.

It was always about control.

And right now, the entire country was moving exactly how I wanted it to.

One screen showed fans defending me viciously online. Another showed emotional edits of me and Lucian together, layered with dramatic music and captions calling me brave.

One particularly ridiculous video had already crossed thirteen million views.

I almost laughed out loud.

Not because it was funny.

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But because it was hilarious how people were so painfully easy to manipulate when emotions were

involved.

Especially love.

“Public sympathy keeps climbing,” my assistant informed me from across the room, scrolling rapidly through her tablet. “The silence from Dhark Holdings is hurting them badly.”

Of course it was.

Lucian had spent his entire life controlling perception.

Now perception in turn, was controlling him.

“Interview requests?” I asked.

“Forty-two and counting.”

“Brands?”

“A few are distancing themselves quietly,” she admitted carefully. “But others want to publicly support you.”

That nearly amused me.

Victimhood sold almost as well as beauty did. Sometimes even better.

I reached for the remote lazily, and switched channels.

More outrage, more analysis, more speculation..

And then Claire Moreau appeared onscreen.

My face instantly fixed itself into a frown.

The segment shifted to courtroom footage.

Headlines started rolling beneath her image.

“Claire Moreau Dominates Virex Hearing.”

“Langford Industries Expected To Win.”

“Corporate Law’s Fastest Rising Name?”

The volume of the television suddenly felt louder than before.

I watched Claire move across the courthouse steps in a fitted black suit, composed and elegant beneath the flashing cameras.

Confident, even.

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Admired.

Respected.

My jaw just kept clenching tighter and tighter.

Claire Moreau was supposed to disappear quietly.

Not rise, not recover.

And certainly not at a time like this.

The reporters spoke about her with admiration now, instead of pity or even judgement.

Admiration!

That irritated me far more than Lucian’s collapsing reputation ever could.

Because Claire had already lost.

I had made sure of it.

The divorce, the humiliation, the infertility narrative.

The public embarrassment was too great for her to simply just bounce back from.

She was supposed to remain broken after that.

But instead, she was rebuilding beautifully.

And I hated it more than anything.

Elise had never recovered from my wrath- no one ever did.

So how could Claire?

Being hated was one thing- I could survive that.

But being overshadowed?

That was very different.

I muted the television.

“He’ll come back eventually,” I said to myself.

My assistant glanced up. “Lucian?”

I smiled faintly. “Men like Lucian always return to what consumes them.”

Claire had history.

Stability.

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Obligation.

But me?

I was pure obsession.

The reaction from my fans was more than enough proof.

And Lucian Dhark had never been a man capable of resisting obsession forever.

“What if he fights back publicly?” my assistant asked carefully.

“He won’t.” I answered without hesitation. “Lucian cares too much about perception.”

That was the irony of powerful men: their pride trapped them more effectively than fear ever could.

Lucian would never willingly expose the fake pregnancy. The false scans he had been unable to flag.

How completely I had fooled him

Because doing so would humiliate him too.

And Lucian Dhark hated humiliation more than almost anything.

My phone vibrated suddenly against the marble table beside me.

Dr. Ramon.

I answered quickly.

“What?”

His breathing sounded uneven- nervous, and already irritating.

“Margot Sinclair came to see me again.”

I sat up immediately. “When?”

“Some days ago.”

“And?”

There was a long, painful pause from the other end of the line.

Then-

“She got access to the system.”

I went completely still.

No.

That wasn’t right.

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Margot Sinclair did many things to tge extreme, but I had always known her to follow procedure obsessively.

She wasn’t reckless enough to hack hospital systems.

Which meant one thing.

“You gave it to her,” I said quietly, realization dawning on me.

Dr. Ramon inhaled sharply. “Eva, listen to me-”

“You betrayed me.” My teeth gritted against each other as each word came out.

“I had no choice.”

My grip tightened around the phone, rage spreading through my body in fast waves now-cold and

violent.

Not just because Margot visited him again.

But because if Dr. Ramon was panicking enough to lie-

then things were already worse than he was admitting.

“What exactly does she have?” I asked.

Another pause.

“Your original report.”

For a moment, I heard absolutely nothing.

Not the television, not the sounds from city below.

Nothing.

Just those words.

“Your original report.”

My infertility diagnosis.

The real one.

The one that should never exist publicly.