The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 301

By the time we reached the bedroom, I had stopped smiling.

Not because I wasn’t happy—I was.

But something had been bothering me since we left the kitchen.

I walked toward the closet and opened it.

Lucian was watching me. “What are you doing?”

“I need clothes.”

He frowned. “You have clothes.”

I pulled out one of the dresses I had left behind last year. “This is one of the clothes I left here before the divorce.”

I held it up. “It doesn’t really fit the way I want it to anymore.”

Lucian leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been wearing these?”

I shrugged. “Some of them.”

His expression changed. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think it was important.” I walked toward the closet again.

“My work clothes are still at my apartment. I have a lot of suits, dresses, shoes… everything I actually wear to work.”

Lucian nodded. “Then I’ll have to send someone to get them.”

I turned toward him. “No.” I said quickly.

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I need to go back to my apartment.”

His face immediately hardened. “Claire—“

“I’ve already paid several months of rent.” I explained.

It was true. After getting my first couple of paychecks, I paid months of rent in advance.

I hadn’t even known that I would be handling the Dhark Holdings vs Eva Sterling case—which is paying more than most lawyers in the country can even imagine.

“So?”

“So I can’t just abandon it.” I stated the obvious, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “And besides, we’re not married.”

His eyebrow lifted. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” I sighed. “Lucian, I know we’re together again. I know we’re having a baby. But I still think I need my own space.”

He stared at me for a moment.

Then he started walking toward me. “Not right now.”

I blinked. “What?”

Lucian placed his hands on my shoulders like he was tasked with talking some sense into a disobedient child.

“You’re staying here.”

I laughed softly. “You can’t just decide that.”

“I can when it concerns your safety.”

“I’m pregnant, Lucian. I’m not made of glass.” I retorted.

“I know.” His voice softened. “But you’re six weeks pregnant.”

He reached for my hand. “And the first trimester is one of the most vulnerable stages of pregnancy.”

I stared at him. “Since when do you know that?”

He looked almost offended. “Since you told me about the pregnancy.”

I laughed. “You’ve been reading?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “How much?”

“Enough.”

I smiled. “You’ve been researching pregnancy?”

“I have a child now. I’m allowed to know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t even know what we’re having.” I stated.

It was a little funny how he always spoke like the baby was already born.

Lucian pulled me into his arms. “A baby.”

I laughed, then pulled away. “That’s very informative.”

He smiled. “I’m serious.”

His thumb moved slowly over my hand. “I want you here.”

The humor faded from his voice. “Where I know you’re safe. Where there is security all around you, where I can get to you if you need anything.”

I looked into his dark eyes. He was seriously concerned.

“And my apartment?”

And somehow, the argument disappeared beneath the sound of our laughter.

The room grew quiet.

His eyes met mine—the teasing behind them faded.

Now, there was only him… and me.

And everything we had somehow survived.

He leaned down and kissed me slowly. Tenderly.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

There was no sense of urgency. No anxiety. Just the quiet certainty that we had found our way back to each other.

His hand rested gently against my waist. Mine slid into his hair.

The kiss deepened, and I felt myself smile against his lips.

He pulled away just enough to look at me. “You okay?”

“I am,” I nodded. “I love you.”

His forehead rested against mine. “I love you too, Claire.”

He kissed me again.

And that night, we made love slowly, tenderly, with none of the fear or uncertainty that had once followed us.

There was no past between us in that moment. No strange sense of distance that had plagued us during the last couple years of our marriage.

Later, I lay against his chest beneath the sheets, with his arm was wrapped securely around me.

His left hand rested over my stomach.

Neither of us were in a hurry to speak.

I simply lay there, listening to his heartbeat—steady, warm and alive.

Once, I had thought this mansion represented everything I had lost.

My marriage, my happiness, the future I had given up.

Now I was lying in the same bedroom beside the man I had fallen in love all those years ago. The man I thought I had lost.

Carrying his child.

And somehow, the place that had once broken my heart no longer felt like a place I had simply returned to.

It felt like home.