The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Claire’s POV

Monday morning came crisp and bright.

I woke before the alarm, and for a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. The ceilings above me were too high, the sheets were too soft.

–

Then my memory started settling in the marriage, the scandals… my first day at Sinclair & Co.

The last thought steadied me instantly.

It gave me the motivation I needed to get out of bed.

Today mattered.

Not because of Lucian, not because of the Dhark family, but because it was mine.

The first thing I had chosen for myself since I became Lucian’s wife.

“Routine is power,” Margot had said.

I would not let them rewrite my entire image.

I dressed carefully- not extravagant, but professional. Capable. Someone who couldn’t be dismissed at

a glance.

When I stepped into the hallway, the house was already awake.

But something was off.

It wasn’t obvious at first- but nothing here really ever was.

I noticed conversations soften as I passed. Staff straightened subtly, flashing polite, rehearsed smiles.

It all felt so wrong.

But I chose to ignore it.

Fresh air hit my face as I stepped outside. The first thing I noticed was that my driver wasn’t waiting.

That was odd.

A flicker of irritation arose in me, but I kept walking toward the gates anyway.

The gates were beginning to slide open for a departing vehicle.

Finally.

I stepped forward.

“Good morning,” I greeted the two guards stationed in front of the gate calmly.

The officers simply nodded in response.

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WENA ONE Clare’s POV

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“I’ll need the gates opened.” I instructed.

There was a small pause.

They shared a knowing glance, then one of them adjusted his earpiece before responding.

“Good morning Ms. Moreau.”

My whole body stilled for a moment.

Miss Moreau.

Not Mrs. Dhark.

Not Madam.

My maiden name – precise and deliberate.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave the estate today.” He spoke, almost automatically. Like he had

rehearsed the sentence over and over again.

For a second, I thought I’d misheard.

“…Excuse me?”

“We’ve received updated instructions.” He said carefully.

Instead of quickening, my heartbeat slowed, like my brain was trying to process the information it had

received.

“Updated?” I repeated.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what are those instructions?” I questioned.

The man who had answered me hesitated before speaking again.

“We’re not permitted to authorize your departure without clearance.” He finally answered.

The second guard avoided my eyes.

“Clearance from whom?” I asked evenly.

The response I got was absolute silence.

I looked past them at the closed, massive iron gates.

“Bring my car around.” I instructed.

“It’s unavailable this morning.” The second guard answered.

Unavailable.

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CHROMNIMEONE Claire’s POV

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I exhaled softly, trying my best to fight the frustration building up inside me.

“And if I choose to walk?” I asked.

Another pause.

“That would not be advisable.” The first guard answered.

Not advisable? More like not allowed.

I inhaled sharply.

This wasn’t an oversight.

This was coordinated.

Whoever had given these instructions to restrict my movement, must have known that I was going to

Sinclair&co.

I nodded once, refusing confusion, refusing embarrassment, and turned back toward the house.

My phone rang the moment I entered the sitting room.

It was an unknown number.

I answered anyway.

“Mrs.-” the voice hesitated, before correcting itself. “Claire Moreau?”

“This is she.” I responded coldly.

“I’m calling on behalf of Dhark Family Legal Affairs. We wanted to clarify a clause within your marital agreement.”

My ears rang faintly.

“What clause?” I questioned.

“A clause in your prenuptial agreement.” He repeated.

Oh, no.

My breath hitched in my throat.

The lawyer continued. “Employment engagements undertaken by either spouse during the course of the marriage, require approval from the family board.”

Silence. Heavy, deafening silence.

I remembered signing papers, days before the wedding. Pages turned quickly while lawyers smiled and assured me that everything was standard.

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I never thought it would come back to haunt me.

I had been naive, especially for someone with a law degree.

“You’re saying I can’t work.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I’m saying,” the lawyer replied with an evenly professional tone, “that authorization has not been granted.”

He didn’t say much else before ending the call politely.

I sat very still for so long, I lost count of time. A thousand thoughts were going through my mind. One thing was obvious;

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