The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 157

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN_ LUCIAN’S POV

He moved the second he saw me- and fast.

Too fast for a normal hospital worker.

The machines beside Margot Sinclair’s bed shrieked sharply as I lunged across the room and grabbed him by the shoulder, slamming him backward into the wall before he could disconnect another line.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, but he didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his elbow drove hard into my ribs with brutal precision.

I felt pain explode through my side instantly.

Professional.

That was my first thought.

Not random, not desperate. This was a trained man.

He twisted sharply from my grip and swung again, aiming directly for my throat. I blocked it barely in time and drove my fist into his jaw hard enough to make him stagger sideways, and straight into one of

the monitors.

The machine crashed loudly and I saw Margot’s heart monitor spike violently.

Then the man recovered almost immediately- too quickly.

Then his stance shifted lower-efficiently.

Every movement was measured.

Then he pulled out an AMTAC blade.

And suddenly I knew exactly what I was dealing with.

Not a thug, not hired street muscle.

Something worse.

He struck again- but not with the armed hand.

A brutal blow to my abdomen forced the air from my lungs before he drove another punch across my face hard enough to blur my vision.

I managed to grab him again, slamming him against the bed rail.

This time, I made sure to land a clean hit across his cheek.

Blood.

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HEINDRED AND FETY SEVEN LUCIAN’S POV

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But it barely slowed him.

He twisted sharply, drove his knee into my side again, then shoved me backward hard enough to send me crashing into the equipment beside Margot’s bed.

Pain surged through my side, and the machines screamed even louder.

Footsteps started sounding outside the room.

The man looked toward the door once.

Then he bolted.

By the time I forced myself upright and followed him into the hallway, he was already disappearing

around the corner.

“Stop him!” I barked.

All the nurses could do was scream.

People scattered and security finally rushed forward.

But when Claire reached me seconds later alongside hospital staff, the corridor was already in full chaos.

And the man was gone.

The search lasted nearly forty minutes.

Every exit was checked, every hallway reviewed.

Security footage was pulled immediately.

Nothing.

It was like the bastard had just disappeared into thin air!

Claire stood near the ICU doors while hospital personnel moved frantically around us.

I noticed that her face had gone pale sometime during the chaos.

Professor Grant looked even worse- understandably.

Someone had just tried to kill his wife.

“She’s stable,” a doctor assured us carefully. “If Mr. Dhark hadn’t interrupted when he did-”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to, everyone already knew the implication.

Mason exhaled shakily and rubbed a hand over his face.

Claire turned toward me slowly, wide-eyed. “What happened in there?”

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I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth with my thumb before answering.

“He wasn’t a nurse.”

No one spoke.

“He fought like military.” I added firmly. “He had an AMTAC blade.”

One of the hospital security officers frowned slightly. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I nodded, the certainty in my voice unwavering.

Because I was sure.

Very sure.

Claire noticed immediately, as she always did. “How would you know that?”

For a moment, I almost brushed it off.

Then I remembered the machines disconnecting beside Margot’s bed.

Remembered how calculated every movement had been.

Remembered the blade he hadn’t used on me, for whatever reason.

“My father had me staying with naval officers when I was fourteen.”

Claire stared at me in shock.

“What?”

I leaned back against the wall slightly, ignoring the sharp ache spreading through my ribs.

“He believed it would make me stronger.”

The that followed was so awkward I almost wished I hadn’t said anything. 1

Professor Grant looked disturbed.

Claire looked… well, something else entirely.

Not just pity, but something softer.

“What kind of father does that to a child?” she asked quietly.

I almost laughed at that even though there was no humor in it.

“The kind I had.” I spat.

No one spoke after that.

I pulled out my phone instead and dialed Tessa immediately.

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“I want external security here within the hour,” I said quickly. “Private rotation. Armed too. No one enters Margot Sinclair’s room unverified.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll handle it.”

The line disconnected shortly after.

Professor Grant looked at me carefully afterward. “Thank you.” He said, sincerity evident in his voice.

I nodded once.

Claire thanked me too.

Quietly.

By the time the external security I had requested arrived, it was already late evening.

Mason finally agreed to take the children home briefly after the doctors insisted there was nothing more anyone could do tonight.

Claire stayed.

Of course she did.

But eventually she checked her phone and frowned slightly.

“Nathaniel isn’t answering,” she murmured to herself.

“You came with him?” I asked, catching her attention.

She nodded distractedly. “He had meetings this afternoon. I was supposed to call him when I was ready.”

I glanced toward the elevators.

“I’ll take you.”

Claire shook her head like I had suggested something pervasive. “No, it’s fine.” She said. “I can call an

Uber.”

“You’re not taking an Uber after someone just tried to murder Margot Sinclair.” I countered.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Claire.”

The firmness in my voice made her stop.

For a moment she looked like she wanted to argue again.

Then she didn’t.

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“Fine.” She shrugged.

–

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The city lights blurred past quietly outside the car windows.

Neither Claire nor I spoke for the first several minutes.

The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just careful.

Claire sat beside me in the backseat while the driver moved steadily through the inconvenient traffic

toward Sinclair & Co.

Eventually, Claire looked at me again.

“Your father really left you with navy officers?” She asked.

I simply stared ahead.

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

Claire frowned immediately. “That’s insane.”