The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 152

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-TWO LUCIAN’S POV

By the time the last investor disconnected, I could barely feel my hands anymore.

The screen in front of me dimmed slightly going off completely, returning to the reflection of my own face.

Tired.

And failing.

Another call notification appeared almost immediately.

From Tokyo.

The fourth international partner that day.

I answered without hesitation- because I had no choice.

“We value our relationship with Dhark Holdings,” the man said carefully, but the practiced diplomacy almost felt insulting now. “But given the current climate, our board believes it would be… prudent to suspend negotiations until the situation stabilizes.”

‘Suspend’ was corporate language for retreat- I knew that better than anyone.

“I understand,” I replied evenly.

That was a lie.

Nothing about this was understandable, but I knew I couldn’t convince them otherwise.

“We hope this matter resolves itself quickly.”

It won’t.

Because scandals faded. But public hatred?

That lasted.

The call ended soon enough.

Another loss. Another fracture quickly destroying something my family had spent generations building.

I leaned back slowly in my chair, looking out the windows of my study.

Dhark Holdings had survived recessions. It had survived political wars, economic collapse.

My great-grandfather had built the foundation with almost nothing.

My father and his father expanded it into an empire.

And now it was unraveling because of a lie- a very believable lie.

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My jaw tightened at the thought.

For a brief, dangerous second, something dark crossed my mind.

Something simple, but permanent.

If Eva disappeared from this equation-

The thought stopped almost as quickly as it came.

No.

Absolutely not, Lucian.

I closed my eyes briefly, forcing the dark thoughts out.

That was exactly how people destroyed themselves.

And worse, with the public already convinced I had abused her, any harm that came to Eva would bury

me permanently.

Her fans had already proven just how far they were willing to go.

I opened my eyes again just to see the office doors opening.

My assistant, Tessa, stepped inside carefully, her tablet in hand.

She looked exhausted too.

No one on my team had slept properly in days.

“Sir,” she began quietly, “the market just closed.”

I already knew from her expression that it was bad.

“How bad?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“Another eleven percent.”

The silence was so deafening, my ears started ringing.

Eleven percent.

I felt my fingers curled slowly against the desk.

“That brings the total loss to-”

“I know what it brings it to.” I said, my voice coming out colder than intended.

Tessa immediately fell silent.

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“There’s more.” She added quietly.

Of course there was.

“One of the European banking groups is reconsidering their partnership agreement.”

For a moment, I genuinely couldn’t process the words anymore, all I could do was stare into space.

Every hour brought something new.

Another withdrawal, another loss, another collapsing piece.

“We’re also receiving internal concerns from shareholders,” she continued carefully. “There’s talk about emergency restructuring if-”

Something in me snapped then.

The sound of the glass shattering against the wall was sharp enough to make Tessa flinch in terror.

I hadn’t even realized I’d thrown the whiskey tumbler across the room, until its fragments scattered against the floor.

My breathing suddenly felt hot and uneven.

Violent, even.

Another object hit the wall.

Then another.

The lamp crashed beside the shelves, papers scattered.

Tessa stepped back immediately, her expression a mix of shock and fear.

“Sir-”

I slammed my fist into the wall hard enough to send pain shooting through my arm. But I barely even felt

I did it again, again and again, until the rage had nowhere to go anymore.

No target, no solution, no control.

That’s what happened when everything you’ve worked for was collapsing at once and you couldn’t stop it.

“Sir, please-”

Another punch.

The skin across my knuckles split open instantly, and blood streaked across the wall.

“Lucian!”

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Camilla’s voice cut through the room sharply.

I froze at the spot.

Barely.

She stood at the doorway, breathing hard and unevenly from rushing upstairs.

Tessa also looked visibly relieved to see her.

Camilla’s eyes moved across the destroyed study before finally settling on me.

And for the first time in years-

I felt ashamed.

Not because of the destruction, but she looked worried.

Deeply worried.

And it was all because of me.

“Leave us,” Camilla said gently to my assistant.

Tessa didn’t even hesitate for a second before nodding quickly and stepping out.

The room fell quiet again- except for my breathing.

Camilla crossed the room, and walked toward me slowly-carefully, like she was approaching something wounded.

“Sit down,” she said softly.

I almost refused automatically.

Then I didn’t.

I lowered myself heavily onto the edge of the couch while she disappeared briefly before returning with a

first aid kit.

She took my hand without asking, and I prepared myself for the sting of antiseptic which would likely

make me hiss. And it did.

“You used to do this as a child too,” she murmured while cleaning the blood away.

I let out a humorless breath. “I might have been arrogant, but I don’t remember destroying rooms.”

“Oh, you absolutely did.” She countered, a faint smile forming on her face. “You were seven when you knocked over that ridiculously expensive sculpture your father imported from Italy.”

I frowned faintly. “That thing was hideous.”

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Camilla laughed. “There’s the Lucian I know.”

Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitched slightly.

“Your father was furious,” she continued. “But Elena laughed so hard she nearly cried.”