The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 277

For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.

I stared through the windshield, but I wasn’t really seeing the street in front of me anymore.

I was seeing Hart.

The Hart I’d known for a decade.

The man who had always been there.

The man who had taken my calls at three in the morning.

The man who had never asked me whether something was right or wrong.

The man who had simply asked me what needed to be done.

And now he was talking about changing.

Because of them.

Because of Claire.

Because of Margot Sinclair.

Because of a trial.

I clenched my jaw.

“Did you give them something?”

Silence.

My heart began pounding.

“Hart.”

Nothing.

“Did you give Claire something?”

Still nothing.

I sat up straighter.

“Did you give her evidence?”

He finally spoke.

“Why does it matter?”

My stomach twisted.

It mattered because I needed to know how much he had told them.

It mattered because every piece of evidence could destroy me.

It mattered because if Hart had turned, I needed to know before the prosecution did.

“It matters because I’m asking you.”

“You’ve never had to ask me questions like this before.”

I froze.

There was something almost accusing in his voice.

I swallowed.

“You’re right.”

I forced my voice to soften again.

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

He didn’t respond.

“I don’t.”

I closed my eyes.

“Hart, listen to me.”

I tried to sound like the woman he’d always trusted.

The woman who had held him when he was broken.

The woman who had convinced him that nobody else would ever understand him the way I did.

“I know things are difficult right now.”

“They are.”

“But we’re going to get through this.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

I smiled faintly.

“Us.”

He didn’t say anything.

I continued.

“You and me.”

My voice became softer.

“We’ve survived worse.”

That was true.

At least, I thought it was.

We had survived scandals.

Breakups.

Enemies.

Secrets.

People trying to separate us.

We had always found our way back to each other.

Or perhaps I’d simply always known how to bring him back.

I wasn’t sure anymore.

“You said you loved me.”

“I did.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

My throat tightened.

“Hart.”

“I don’t know.”

The words hit harder the second time.

I laughed quietly.

But there was no humor in it.

“You don’t know.”

“No.”

“After everything?”

“Yes.”

I looked down at my hands.

They were shaking.

I hated that.

I hated feeling afraid.

“I made you everything you are,” I whispered.

Hart didn’t answer.

“I gave you money.”

Silence.

“I gave you connections.”

Nothing.

“I gave you a life.”

His voice finally came.

“You gave me orders.”

I stopped breathing.

“What?”

“You gave me orders, Eva.”

I stared at the phone.

“You did whatever I asked.”

“I thought that was loyalty.”

“No.”

His voice was quieter now.

“I think I was afraid of losing you.”

Something inside me cracked.

I immediately pushed it away.

“You still are.”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re afraid of losing me.”

“I’m afraid of what happens if I keep doing this.”

I frowned.

“You mean prison?”

“I mean everything.”

I suddenly understood what was happening.

Margot had gotten to him.

Claire had gotten to him.

They had convinced him that I was the problem.

That everything he’d done was his fault.

That he should betray me to save himself.

I laughed bitterly.

“So this is what they’ve done.”

“What?”

“They’ve made you ashamed of loving me.”

His voice hardened.

“Don’t.”

“You’ve always loved me.”

“I did.”

“Did?”

He didn’t correct himself.

I felt my eyes burning.

“You’re really going to do this?”

“I haven’t decided anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

He was silent.

“You’ve already decided.”

“Eva—”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t get to pretend this is complicated.”

My voice rose.

“You either stand with me or you don’t.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“That’s exactly how it works.”

I could hear my own heartbeat.

“If you testify against me, you’re a traitor.”

He said nothing.

“If you tell them everything I’ve ever asked you to do, you’re choosing them.”

Still nothing.

“And if you do that…”

I swallowed.

“Then you’re choosing Claire.”

He finally spoke.

“Maybe I’m choosing myself.”

I froze.

The words were almost worse than anything else he’d said.

Hart had never chosen himself.

Not when it came to me.

Not once.

“You sound like Margot.”

“I’m not Margot.”

“No.”

I laughed coldly.

“You’re worse.”

He didn’t respond.

I leaned back in my seat.

“I made you.”

“Maybe.”

“You’d be nothing without me.”

“Maybe.”

“Stop saying that!”

My voice echoed inside the car.

I knew the conversation was over.

But I wasn’t ready to let him go.

“Hart.”

Nothing.

“Hart, don’t do this.”

Silence.

Then, very quietly:

“Goodbye, Eva.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

He had hung up.

Hart Sullivan had actually hung up on me.

I sat there for several minutes without moving.

Then I threw the phone onto the passenger seat.

It bounced once before landing.

I pressed both hands against my face.

I didn’t cry.

I refused to.

I had cried enough.

Instead, I sat there and thought.

Hart could betray me.

Claire could win.

The jury could believe every lie the prosecution told.

My career could disappear.

My freedom could disappear.

Everything I’d built could disappear.

But there was still one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Lucian.

I reached for my phone again.

My hands were steadier now.

I opened my calendar.

And there it was.

The date.

Lucian’s birthday.

Next week.

I stared at it for a long time.

A strange calm slowly settled over me.

I remembered his birthdays from years ago.

The parties.

The charity events.

The dinners.

The champagne.

The cameras.

The way people gathered around him.

The way he always pretended he hated the attention.

And the way I’d once stood beside him.

I had loved those nights.

Not because of the cake.

Not because of the champagne.

Because I was beside him.

I was Eva Sterling.

His Eva.

Then I thought about this year.

Claire would be there.

She would probably stand beside him.

She would smile for the cameras.

She would hold his hand.

She would receive all the congratulations.

Everyone would look at them and believe they had their happy ending.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

No.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I had lost Lucian once.

I had watched him marry Claire.

I had watched him leave me.

And somehow, I’d gotten him back.

Even if only for a while.

But now he was hers again.

Completely.

And I couldn’t accept it.

I looked at the date again.

A week.

I had one week.

My lips slowly curved into a smile.

It wasn’t the smile I gave reporters.

It wasn’t the smile that had charmed Lucian.

It was colder.

Quieter.

“If I can’t have you,” I whispered, staring at his name on my screen, “then no one else can.”

I locked the phone.

Then I started the car.

For the first time since the trial began, I wasn’t thinking about what would happen in court.

I was thinking about Lucian’s birthday.

And what I could do before the candles were blown out.