The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 280

“Claire?” Camilla called again.

I simply stared at her. For several seconds, I didn’t know what to say.

Pregnancy.

The word had barely entered my mind, yet somehow it had managed to echo repeatedly.

I looked away. “That’s impossible.”

Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

And Camilla noticed— of course she did.

I wiped my mouth and slowly got to my feet. “I’ve just been stressed.” I said, in an attempt to dismiss the thought.

“You’ve been nauseous.”

“Just a few times.”

“Your breasts are tender.”

“That happens.”

“You’ve been tired.”

“Because I work too much.”

Camilla folded her arms across her chest.

I heaved a sigh. “Camilla, please.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Camilla said, giving me a knowing look.

“But you’re thinking it very loudly.”

She laughed softly. “I only suggested you take a test.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t need one.”

She studied me for another moment before finally nodding. “All right.”

I smiled, relieved. “Thank you very much.”

“But if you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

She smiled again. “We’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes as I walked away from the bathroom, but somehow, her words followed me.

“Take a test.”

I tried to push the thought aside. It wouldn’t be difficult.

At least, I told myself it wasn’t.

I had spent months under enormous pressure. The trial alone was enough to make anyone feel sick. Add Lucian’s recovery, my work, the lack of sleep and everything else that had happened over the past year…

There were a hundred different explanations for why I would feel sick.

Pregnancy didn’t have to be one of them.

Except… I knew it was possible.

That was the part I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Lucian and I had been intimate a few times over the past month. More recently, too.

Enough times that pregnancy wasn’t some impossible fantasy.

But we’d been intimate countless times for years and it never resulted in a pregnancy.

But still, it was a possibility— a terrifying one.

And, somewhere deep inside me, a hopeful one.

I immediately hated myself for thinking that. Because I’d been here before— so many times.

During my marriage to Lucian, there had been countless mornings when I’d woken up wondering if this would finally be the month.

I’d bought pregnancy tests, sometimes more than three. I’d taken them with trembling hands, staring at those little windows while my heart raced.

And every single time…

Nothing.

One line— always one line.

I’d learned how to smile afterward and pretend like I wasn’t hurting.

How to tell myself I hadn’t really expected anything.

How to throw the test into the trash and continue with my day as if my heart hadn’t just cracked open.

I wasn’t doing that again.

Not for a maybe. Not because Camilla thought I was pregnant.

I needed certainty before I allowed myself to hope.

So I decided not to think about it. At least for now.

When I walked back into the kitchen, Lucian wasn’t there.

A few minutes later, I found him on the terrace.

He stood near the railing, looking out over the gardens.

For a moment, I simply watched him.

He looked better. Still thinner than before, still moving carefully, but noticeably better.

The afternoon sunlight fell across his face, making him look almost like the man I’d known before the hospital. Almost.

I started walking toward him.

Lucian turned when he heard my footsteps. “There you are.”

I smiled. “Were you looking for me?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re terrible at pretending not to be.”

I joined him at the railing. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

I looked around. It’d been near a year since I’d been here.

The terrace was beautiful. But it was also noticeably older than the rest of the mansion.

The stone had weathered with time, and some of the railings needed work. Even the furniture looked like it belonged to another era.

I’d noticed it before but I never thought of bringing it to his attention— not with our marriage going downhill.

I frowned. “This place could use some renovation.”

Lucian looked around. “It could.” He agreed.

“You’ve renovated the rest of the mansion.”

“Most of it.”

“So why not this?”

His expression changed— a subtle change, but of course I noticed.

He leaned against the railing. “I couldn’t.”

I looked at him. “Why?”

He stared toward the garden. “My mother used to bring me here.”

My expression softened. “Oh.”

Elena Dhark had always been a sensitive topic for Lucian. So sensitive, he rarely ever spoke to me about her.

“I was probably seven or eight.” He smiled faintly. “I used to run around this entire terrace while she sat over there.” He said, pointing toward the far end.

He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. “At first, it terrified me.”

I moved closer.

“But then I found some old tapes.”

I raised a brow. “Tapes?”

“Recordings.” He nodded. “She used to record little things. Messages. Family videos. Nothing too important.”

He smiled faintly. “But now they’re everything to me.”

I didn’t speak. It was difficult to find something to say.

Lucian’s voice filled the silence.I play them sometimes.” His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. “And when I hear her voice, it’s like she’s here again.”

I stepped closer instinctively, and wrapped my arms around him.

He immediately held me, his face resting against my hair.

Neither of us spoke. There were some things that didn’t need words.

After a while, he whispered: “Would you oversee the renovation?”

I pulled back. “What?”

“The terrace.”

I laughed a little. “No.”

His expression became almost offended. “Why?”

“Because I have a career.” I answered.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I have a trial.”

“So?”

“So I don’t have time to choose tiles and furniture for your childhood terrace.”

Lucian smiled sadly. “You used to love doing things like that.”

“I used to be a housewife.”

His smile faded slightly, but I didn’t regret saying it. Because it was true.

I had changed, and he knew it.

“I don’t want you to stop being who you are now,” he said.

I smiled. “Good.”

“I just thought you’d enjoy it.”

“Maybe,” I squeezed his hand. “But someone else can do it.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” He said, a proud smile forming on his face now.

Lucian kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you.”

I looked at him.

The words were simple, but they still reached somewhere deep inside me. “Thank you.”

For a moment, I considered telling him.

“Camilla thinks I might be pregnant.”

The words formed in my mind. In fact, I almost said them.

But then I remembered every negative pregnancy test I’d ever taken.

Every little moment of hope. Every disappointment that inevitably followed.

I wasn’t ready to go through that again… so I swallowed the words.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe when I had something more than a suspicion.

For now, I simply held his hand.