The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 264

Hart stared at me for a long time.

Then, he burst into laughter.

It wasn’t a happy sound.

It was bitter.

“You really think you can turn me against her.” He looked at me like I was the crazy one.

I heaved a sigh. “I don’t need to turn you against anyone.”

“That’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m trying to show you what happens when you keep standing in front of someone else’s consequences.”

His expression hardened. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Eva.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” I paused. “But I know enough about Eva.”

That seemed to silence him.

I continued. “I know she has spent years getting people to do things she didn’t want her name attached to.”

Hart’s jaw tightened.

“I know she knows exactly which weaknesses to exploit.”

His eyes flickered at that.

“And I know that when things started falling apart, she began protecting herself.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I see you’ve been talking to your mentee.”

Claire.

“Of course.”

“She’s filled your head with nonsense.”

“No.” I smiled faintly. “Claire has spent months gathering evidence. There’s a difference.”

Hart looked away, a small, bitter smile on his face. “She thinks you can convince me to testify against Eva.”

I let the silence linger for a bit.

“She suspects you might decide on your own.”

“And she sent you here.”

“She told me what she was worried about.”

“Same thing.”

“No.”

I looked directly at him. “She would have come herself if she had the time.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Then why didn’t she?”

“Because she’s exhausted.” I didn’t bother hiding the frustration in my voice. “She’s spent months preparing this case. She’s been in court every day. She’s been at the hospital. She’s been fighting for Lucian while he was unconscious. She’s barely had time to breathe.”

Hart’s expression remained blank. “Exhausted or scared of me?”

I scoffed.

“She knows what I’m capable of.” He added, eyes wide like he was fascinated.

“Despite everything you’ve done, Claire still believes there’s a part of you capable of making the right choice.”

His eyes dropped to the table. “She’s wrong.”

“Maybe.” I leaned back in my chair again. “But if you’re determined to prove her wrong, that’s your choice.”

For several seconds, Hart said nothing.

Then he asked: “What happens if I testify?”

There it was.

But I maintained a neutral expression— people like Hart often have lawyers false hope.

“That depends on what you testify to.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” I folded my hands. “Claire already offered you a plea arrangement.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. “Two years. And six months of rehabilitation of course.”

He scoffed. “And that’s supposed to make me grateful?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s supposed to make you understand that cooperation has value.”

He laughed. “I’m not looking forward to betraying the woman I love for two years behind bars.”

“You’re not getting immunity either ways.” I stated. “If you testify for Eva and take all the blame, you could spend a full decade behind bars.” I stated.

I let the silence linger. Let the words sink into his mind.

Perhaps he didn’t fully understand the consequences of his actions.

“If you testify against her, you won’t exactly get immunity. But two years is much better than ten years, isn’t it?”

“I know.”

“Either ways you will still face the consequences. But if you work with us, you may have a chance to reduce them.”

He looked down at his hands.

“And if I don’t?” His voice was lower by an octave now.

“Then you face trial.”

“And Eva?” He asked.

I met his eyes. “She faces hers.”

Something shifted in his expression.

He looked almost angry at the answer. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

He shook his head. “No.”

I waited for several seconds.

Hart was determined to remain silent.

So I asked the question differently. “What are you afraid Eva will do if you testify?”

His eyes immediately hardened. “Nothing.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He didn’t say another word. But his eyes were so blank, I wasn’t even sure he was thinking.

I continued. “You don’t seem afraid of prison. You aren’t afraid of the trial.” I paused, reading his expression. “You aren’t even particularly afraid of dying.”

His jaw tightened.

“So what are you afraid of?”

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then—

“Losing her.”

For a moment, I couldn’t utter a word.

Hart Sullivan was a dangerous man.

Intimidating.

Terrifying.

Ruthless.

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