The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 256

For a heartbeat, I barely recognized him.

The man walking toward the witness stand bore little resemblance to the polished fertility specialist from more than a year ago.

Back then, he’d worn tailored Italian suits and carried himself with the effortless confidence of a doctor whose reputation preceded him.

Today, his shoulders were slumped, the expensive confidence gone.

There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and his suit—though still expensive—hung loosely on a body that had clearly lost weight over the past few months.

His medical license was gone. His career was dead. His reputation had been reduced to headlines and scandal.

Dr. Ramon climbed into the witness stand with slow, measured movements, as though every step reminded him of exactly how far he’d fallen.

The bailiff handed him the Bible.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I swear.” He said, his fingers trembling against the bible.

His voice was so quiet that the courtroom microphones had to amplify it.

For a very brief moment… I almost pitied him.

Almost.

Then I remembered sitting in my bedroom for weeks, with that fake medical report clutched in my hands.

I remembered believing I would never become a mother. I remembered crying until my throat burned.

And just like that, the pity disappeared.

I rose from counsel’s table. “Good morning, Dr. Ramon.”

He lifted his head to meet my eyes. For a second, something flickered across his face— something that almost looked like shame.

“Good morning.” He responded.

I didn’t approach aggressively— that would have been a mistake.

The jury had already seen enough over the past two days. They didn’t need another performance, they needed facts.

I stopped a significant distance from the witness stand and smiled politely.

“Would you please state your full name for the record?”

He did.

“Were you formerly licensed to practice medicine in this state?”

“Yes.”

“What was your specialty?”

“Reproductive endocrinology and fertility medicine.”

“And approximately how many years did you practice?”

“Fifteen.”

I nodded once before continuing. “Dr. Ramon, were you once the primary fertility specialist assigned to Mr. Lucian Dhark and his wife—myself?”

“Yes.” He answered.

“You diagnosed me with severe uterine scarring approximately one year ago, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

I let the words settle over the courtroom. No dramatic pause, no theatrics.

Just enough silence for the jury to connect the dots.

“Do you now admit that diagnosis was false?”

His jaw tightened. “…Yes. Yes, it was.”

No other sound echoed through the courtroom— even the reporters seemed to stop typing.

Across the room, I saw Eva staring at the witness stand without blinking.

My tone remained steady. “Dr. Ramon… why did you falsify my diagnosis?”

Eva’s attorney was already on his feet before Ramon could answer.

“Objection, Your Honor! Calls for speculation regarding motive.”

I remained where I was. “It calls for the witness’s own motivation, Your Honor.” I countered.

The judge considered it for only a second.

“Overruled.”

A slight smile formed on my face.

The judge looked toward Dr. Ramon. “You may answer.”

Dr. Ramon swallowed hard. His eyes drifted briefly toward the jury before he lowered them to his clasped hands.

“Money.”

One word— simple, ugly, but honest.

I refused to react— and so did the jury.

But I did notice more than one juror begin writing.

“Would you explain that answer?” I urged.

Dr. Ramon took a slow breath. “I met Ms. Sterling nearly ten years ago.” He said, his voice clear despite the circumstances, and carrying through the courtroom with surprising clarity now.

“She came to my clinic after suffering complications from… well, multiple illegal abortion procedures.”

The room grew noticeably quieter.

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