The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE LUCIAN’S POV

It was almost as if the mansion was pretending nothing had happened.

People lingered in corners, engaging in soft conversations long after the last guest should have left. Polite, artificial laughter drifted through the halls as actresses gathered their handbags and exchanged compliments that meant nothing.

I noticed it immediately the tension.

The way conversations paused when I passed.

The way two maids stopped speaking altogether as I walked into the corridor.

I had hosted countless gatherings in this house. Scandals, negotiations and celebrations alike – they had all occurred in these rooms without leaving a mark.

Tonight felt different.

Despite the guests’ attempts to gossip discreetly, I still heard small fragments of their conversation.

“…the bracelet…”

“…such an awkward scene…”

“…Mrs. Dhark didn’t even argue…”

That was exactly what made me feel uneasy.

Claire hadn’t defended herself.

I replayed the moment in my head, over and over again. Claire standing beneath the chandelier lights, glowing, surrounded and accused.

But silent. Uncharacteristically so.

In all the years I’ve known Claire, she always spoke. Carefully, sometimes too gently – always explaining, smoothing tension, absorbing blame before it could grow larger.

But last night… she had simply accepted it.

That was odd, even for her.

I searched for her without admitting that was what I was doing.

She wasn’t in the living room.

She wasn’t in the dining hall either.

Neither was she assisting the staff the way she usually did after gatherings.

I stopped near the staircase where Camilla stood, supervising two housemaids clearing trays.

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“Where is Mrs. Dhark?” I asked.

“Madam went inside earlier, sir.” Camilla replied.

I nodded, trying to reach an assumption. 1

She must be upset, then. Embarrassed.

That was what I told myself as I turned away.

I knew Claire too well; she retreated when wounded. She preferred privacy and solitude over confrontation. By morning she would compose herself, apologize for the disturbance, even when she had done nothing wrong, and the house would return to its usual order like nothing had occurred in the first place.

That was how things worked.

That was how they had always worked.

But still, something felt incomplete. Something felt wrong.

“Lucian.”

Eva’s voice followed me as I walked towards the study.

I stopped, taking my time to turn.

Eva walked towards me, every stride more elegant than the last.

“What happened tonight was unfortunate,” she began gently, her face soft with concern that didn’t reach her eyes. “Claire is… sensitive. She took things too personally.”

I said nothing. I was not in the mood to entertain any complaints or even conversations with Eva.

But it seemed like my silence only encouraged her. “The guests were uncomfortable. A scene like that reflects poorly on the family.” She said. “Claire should learn to stop playing victim.”

Still, I did not respond.

Instead, fragments of the scene replayed in my mind again.

Eva insisting that Claire help serve the guests, despite the number of staff already present.

The announcement that the bracelet was missing, and Eva suggesting that Claire should be searched.

Something finally clicked in my head.

I turned to face Eva fully, trying to suppress the rage that was growing within me. “One question,” I said quietly.

Eva smiled. “Of course.”

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“Who searched Claire first?”

Eva’s smile faltered.

It was only for a second, but I saw it.

The pause was too small for anyone else to notice. But I wasn’t just anyone, and to me, the pause was

too large to ignore.

“It was merely procedure,” she replied quickly, to cover up for her earlier pause. “Everyone agreed-”

“That wasn’t my question.”

My voice remained calm.

Eva’s lips pursed into a straight line. “I asked one of the ladies to check, because we needed to resolve the matter quickly.”

I finally understood;

This had not been mere suspicion.

It had been an arrangement.

I exhaled, then guided Eva into the study and closed the door behind us.

“You orchestrated it,” I said flatly.

I didn’t want it to come out sounding like an accusation. It was a fact and we both knew it.

Eva laughed softly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was protecting the family’s reputation.”

“By humiliating Claire?”

“She embarrassed us long before tonight!” Eva snapped. “She doesn’t belong here, Lucian. Everyone sees it except you.”

I paused briefly, allowing the words to settle… keeping my composure in check.

“You expected her to react.” I said slowly.

“Of course I did. Tears, outrage – something. That way, everyone would understand why she cannot remain in this family.”

My jaw tightened.

“And you assumed I would agree.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

My whole life, I had been taught to choose logic over sentiment. Family expectations over personal feelings.

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I had always sided with order, and Eva had relied on that certainty.

But last night, Claire had not fought. She had not pleaded.

She had not even looked at me.

And suddenly, I understood why.

It was because she had known no one would defend her.

A feeling of irritation crept up my spine. Then anger.

I remembered Claire serving tea calmly while the actresses- Eva’s friends-whispered around her.

I remembered the way her hands had not trembled.

The way her eyes had seemed so distant and detached.

She had not been enduring in that moment.

She had been leaving it. And Leaving me.

It felt like dawn arrived in the mansion sooner than usual.

The house moved as though nothing had occurred the previous night.

All the curtains were drawn open. Breakfast preparations were made. Everything was back to normal.

Order had been restored.

… yet there was a certain quietness in the mansion that unsettled me.

There was no movement from Claire’s room.

No soft footsteps in the hallway- I would always recognize her footsteps.

I told myself she was resting.

Recovering from the events of last night.

I worked in my study for nearly an hour, before her absence became impossible to ignore.

Then almost absent-minded, I went upstairs.

Claire’s door opened easily. Her bed was made. The windows were open to let fresh air in.

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