The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 317

I wanted Hart Sullivan dead.

Not imprisoned. Not disgraced. Not sitting in a courtroom, looking remorseful while he dismantled everything I had spent years building.

Dead.

I sat on my sofa with a glass of red wine in my hand, watching the news coverage of his testimony on the television.

A mugshot of his stupid, crooked face filled the screen.

Hart Sullivan, the man who had once sworn he would do anything for me, was now the prosecution’s star witness.

How touching.

The reporter’s voice droned on about the significance of his testimony, the incriminating messages recovered from his phone, and the mounting evidence the prosecution had gathered against me.

Then they showed a clip from the courtroom.

Hart sat in the witness box, answering questions with an expression I had seen on him before several times in the past.

Resolve.

This time, the bastard actually looked determined to tell the truth.

I tightened my grip on my glass.

The truth?

What truth?

That I had trusted him more than I should have?

That I had loved him once?

That I had allowed a criminal into my life when I should have known better?

The reporter continued.

“During his testimony, Sullivan admitted that he had knowingly carried out instructions from Eva Sterling, including acts that endangered the lives of attorneys on the prosecution, Claire Moreau and Margot Sinclair. He also acknowledged responsibility for his actions, stating that he was no longer willing to lie on Sterling’s behalf.”

I laughed.

“No longer willing to lie for me,” I repeated the words slowly, as though saying them aloud might make them less offensive.

God, the nerves of these people.

Hart had lied for me for years. He had kept my secrets, followed my instructions, and stood beside me no matter what.

He had been there before the fame, before the money, before the cameras and the carefully constructed image that had made Eva Sterling a household name.

He knew me when I had nothing. He knew the parts of me I had never allowed the public to see.

And now he wanted to pretend he had suddenly discovered a conscience? Pathetic.

This was the highest form of betrayal.

I took a long drink of wine.

Ungrateful bastard.

The news switched to footage of Claire leaving the courthouse, perfectly composed.

Irritatingly chic in that effortless way of hers, with her dark hair falling over her shoulders and her chin lifted as reporters shouted questions at her.

Pft. Pathetic.

Even at my lowest, I would always be prettier, and more photogenic than she was.

Margot Sinclair was beside her, wearing that same expression of quiet satisfaction she had worn when the judge admitted the messages as evidence.

The old hag.

I hated them both with a passion.

I hated Claire for looking so pleased with herself. And I hated Margot Margot even more for helping her.

Most of all, I hated the fact that they had managed to turn Hart against me.

I had known Hart for years. I knew how he thought, what he wanted, what frightened him, and what made him feel loved.

I had trusted that knowledge. In fact, I had trusted him wholeheartedly.

And they had still managed to get inside his head.

Perhaps I should have seen it coming. I had grown careless.

That possibility filled my soul with anger. I could tolerate being hated by strangers. I could tolerate journalists calling me manipulative, vindictive, and unstable. I could even tolerate watching my reputation dragged through the mud by people who knew nothing about me.

But being betrayed by someone who knew me?

That was different.

I set my glass down.

On the television, Claire was speaking to a reporter. I couldn’t hear her clearly over the presenter’s commentary, but I could imagine what she was saying.

How brave she was.

How determined she was to see justice served.

How she would never stop fighting for the truth.

I almost threw the glass at the screen.

Instead, I smiled.

It was a small, cold smile.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Claire.”

She had taken enough from me.

She had taken Lucian.

She had taken the life I had once imagined for myself.

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