The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 187

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CLAIRE’S POV

The first thing I became aware of was warmth.

The second was Lucian.

I opened my eyes slowly and found myself curled against his side on the couch, wrapped in a blanket I didn’t remember pulling over myself.

At some point during the night, I had clearly shifted closer to him, letting his arm settle around me.

And at some point, I must have fallen asleep there.

The realization should have comforted me.

Instead, something twisted painfully inside my chest.

My gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward his suit jacket.

A pair of silver cufflinks sat beside it.

Dhark Holdings.

For some reason, the sight hit me unexpectedly hard.

Suddenly, it felt like I wasn’t in my apartment anymore.

I was back in court.

Back beneath flashing cameras, beneath the relentless gaze of strangers.

Back listening to Victoria Merlyn weaponize my fertility like it was public property.

Back to hearing the whispers laced with pity and judgement.

Humiliation.

My stomach tightened.

The infertility report… the headlines… the comments online.

The way my body had become a topic of conversation for millions of people.

And through all of it, the man beside me had not stopped it.

Maybe he hadn’t known then what Eva had done.

Maybe he had been manipulated too.

But that didn’t erase what happened.

It didn’t erase how alone I had felt.

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NEPUNDRED AND PGHTY SEVEN CLAIRI S POV

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How broken and publicly destroyed I had felt.

I felt my throat tighten against my will.

Then I sat up slowly. And although I was very careful about it, the movement woke Lucian almost immediately.

His eyes opened and softened immediately he saw me.

When he noticed the expression on my face, the softness immediately disappeared.

“Claire?”

I looked away.

Already hating this.

Already hating that I was hating him all over again.

Already hating that I was about to hurt him.

“I think you should go.”

Lucian was silent. He didn’t exactly seemed shocked though- he just stared at me with those deep dark

eyes.

He didn’t ask why- and somehow, that made it worse.

Instead, he studied me quietly.

Then he nodded once. “You remembered.”

It wasn’t a question- it was a statement.

One I couldn’t deny- nor did I want to.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded once. “I understand.”

And God.

That hurt more than if he had put up an argument.

More than if he had defended himself.

More than if he had been angry.

Because he knew exactly what memories had resurfaced:

The courtroom. The scandal. The years of damage.

“I just need some space,” I said softly.

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SOLOMOND WRITTAND FIGHTY SEVEN CHAIRES POV

Lucian rose from the couch at once. “That’s fair.”

He grabbed his jacket, and started walking towards the door.

Then he paused.

For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something.

Instead he simply said,

“Call me if you need anything.”

Then he left.

The apartment felt strangely empty afterward.

I stared at the closed door for several seconds before forcing myself to move.

My phone buzzed a few minutes later.

Nathaniel.

My chest tightened instantly.

The message was short.

Professional.

Cold.

Your belongings are packed.

Maurice is home.

You can collect them whenever convenient.

No greeting.

No signature.

Nothing.

I stared at the message for a long time before setting my phone down.

Somehow that hurt too.

An hour later, I stood outside Nathaniel’s house.

The place already felt unfamiliar.

Like I no longer belonged there.

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ANI

Like I had imagined the entire relationship.

I rang the bell.

The door opened.

Maurice stood there.

For a second neither of us spoke.

Then her eyes landed on me.

And whatever warmth she had once felt toward me was gone.

Completely.

“Claire.”

Her tone was polite.

Only barely.

I forced a smile.

“Hi, Maurice.”

She stepped aside just enough to reveal two cardboard boxes sitting near the entrance.

My stomach sank immediately.

Nathaniel wasn’t even here.

I don’t know why that hurt.

But it did.

“He’s at work,” Maurice said.

“I figured.”

She folded her arms.

For several seconds she simply looked at me.

Then quietly said,

“I defended you to everyone.”

The words caught me off guard.

Maurice shook her head slightly.

“Turns out I should’ve been defending my brother.”

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I flinched.

INGREY AND HIGHLY SEVEN CLAIRE

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Not because she raised her voice.

She didn’t.

Not because she insulted me.

She didn’t.

Because there was disappointment there.

Real disappointment.

And I had no defense against that.

I lowered my gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Maurice looked away first.

“Take your things, Claire.”

I nodded silently.

Then carried the boxes back to my car.

One contained clothes.

Books.

Toiletries.

The other contained photographs.

Small traces of a life I had started building there.

A future that no longer existed.

By the time I drove away, my chest felt unbearably heavy.

Margot’s house was quieter than I expected.

Professor Mason Grant met me at the entrance.

He looked exhausted.

Relieved.

Hopeful.

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HENNELANDIA HTY SEVEN LAIRES POW

All at once.

Together we went into Margot’s study.

Following her instructions carefully.

The hidden safe wasn’t difficult to find once you knew where to look.

Within minutes, we had the second file.

A duplicate.

Just as Margot promised.

I felt relief so intense I almost laughed.

Eva hadn’t won.

Not yet.

By afternoon I was back at the hospital.

Margot looked better.

Still pale.

Still weak.

But unmistakably alive.

The sight alone nearly made me cry.

Together we went through the file.

Page after page.

Victims.

Associates.

Transactions.

Photographs.

Names.

Then suddenly-

Margot stopped turning pages.

“So that’s him.”

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ONDROP AND HCGHTY SEVEN CLARE SPOV

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I leaned forward immediately.

My pulse spiked.

A photograph stared back at us.

Dark hair.

Hard eyes.

Military posture.

Even in a photograph he looked dangerous.

Below it was a name.

Hart Sullivan.

Former Navy SEAL.

Dishonorably discharged.

Known security contractor.

Known associate of Eva Sterling.

My heart began hammering.

The hospital.

The office.

The stolen file.

The phone.

Everything.

It had been him.

“We finally have a name,” I whispered.

Margot nodded grimly.

“And now we find him.”

For the next hour, she made call after call.

Investigators.

Security contacts.

Law enforcement connections.

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ENDED ANDY FIGHTY SEVEN CLAINES POV

People owed Margot Sinclair favors.

A lot of favors.

By the time she finished, a citywide search was already beginning.

For the first time in weeks-

it felt like we were making progress.

Real progress.