The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 228

CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT_EVA’S POV

I woke to suffocating silence,

For a long moment, I lay staring at the ceiling of my penthouse, listening to the emptiness around me.

Today, there was no assistant bustling through the kitchen. No manager calling before eight in the morning,

No makeup artist and stylist asking what I planned to wear.

No invitations, no flowers.

And worse, no scripts waiting for me.

Nothing

The silence felt wrong. It felt offensive.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table,

The screen lit up instantly.

There were hundreds of notifications.

My pulse quickened.

People were talking about me again, it seemed,

Finally!

Then I saw the first headline.

“LUCIAN DHARK REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS AFTER BRUTAL ATTACK.”

My smile vanished.

The next notification.

“BUSINESS TYCOON AWAKE AS POLICE BUILD CASE AGAINST HART SULLIVAN.”

Another.

“CLAIRE MOREAU LEAVES HOSPITAL AFTER DHARK’S CONDITION IMPROVES.”

Another.

“LUCIAN DHARK EXPECTED TO GIVE FORMAL TESTIMONY SOON.”

I stared at the screen.

No.

No.

No.

I refreshed the page.

The same headlines popped up.

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HARTE WO HUNDRED AND TWENTY LIGHT EVAS POV

I switched to another news app, but it was still the same news.

Even on the television. There was no point switching channels.

Lucian was awake and everyone knew.

Except me.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“So that’s how I find out?”

Like everyone else.

Like some stranger scrolling through morning headlines.

Nobody called me.

Nobody cared to informed me.

Not even Tessa or that useless housekeeper of his, Camilla.

Claire.

It had to be Claire.

She had probably refused to let anyone near him. She’d made herself indispensable.

The devoted ex-wife, the loyal lawyer, the woman who never left his bedside.

She wanted everyone to speak highly of her, and unfortunately, it was working.

My jaw tightened.

Then after sometime, I forced myself to breathe.

None of that mattered- not today.

I had bigger problems.

Today was the second preliminary hearing.

Today could decide whether this case ended quietly…

…or destroyed what little remained of my life.

I was halfway through my makeup when my attorney called.

I answered immediately. “Good morning.”

“It isn’t,” he replied honestly.

I frowned. “What now?”

“We’ve reviewed everything again.” He said.

Today, his voice carried none of the confidence lawyers usually had.

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Smartie WHUNDRED AND TWENTY ECHT IMAT POV

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“We need to avoid trial.”

“I am well aware.”

“If this reaches open court…” He paused. “…our position becomes significantly weaker.”

“Significantly weaker” was a polite way of saying catastrophic.

I picked up my lipstick.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We push for settlement. Hard.” He added. “We emphasize the emotional and financial cost, and of course, the reputational damage to both parties.”

He continued. “If Sinclair & Co agrees to negotiate, we still have a chance.”

I smiled at my reflection. “They will.”

There was silence.

He clearly wasn’t convinced.

I was.

Claire had always been emotional and compassionate.

Soft.

Weak.

She’d spent years forgiving people who didn’t deserve it and making excuses for them.

Lucian included.

If anyone could convince Lucian to settle… it would be Claire.

“I’ll handle Claire,” I replied confidently.

“We’ll see.” My lawyer clicked his tongue.

His uncertainty irritated me. “I said I’ll handle her!”

He sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

“So do I.”

The call ended, so I finished applying my lipstick.

Perfect, just like always.

No one would see how little sleep I’d gotten.

No one would see how frightened I really was.

Appearances still mattered.

I stepped out of the elevator expecting photographers.

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HACTER TWO HUNDRED AND WINDY FIGHT VAPOV

I wasn’t prepared for the crowd waiting outside.

The moment I appeared-

“There she is!”

“Coward!”

“Liar!”

“Justice for Claire!”

“Justice for Lucian!”

The shouting exploded around me.

Flashes from paparazzi cameras blinded me.

Microphones stretched toward my face.

Someone held up one of my old movie posters for everyone to see, then ripped it clean down the middle.

My chest tightened.

A woman I’d recognized from one of my own fan clubs screamed,

“You ruined our lives believing you!”

Another shouted,

“You deserve prison!”

My security immediately surrounded me.

“Move!”

“Move!”

They pushed a path through the crowd, even as questions were flying from every direction.

“Did you order Hart Sullivan to shoot Lucian Dhark?”

“Did you fake the assault allegations?”

“Did you frame Claire?”

I kept walking, keeping my head high like I always did.

Except my face was devoid of a smile or even a hint of joy.