The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 327

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Sinclair & Co. was the silence.

Not the usual, comfortable silence of a busy office where everyone was too occupied to talk. This was the kind of silence that took over when a room full of people saw something they hadn’t expected.

I stood just inside the entrance, my cane firmly planted beside my right foot as I watched them.

Jonathan was the first to notice me. He stopped halfway through a conversation with Laurel, his mouth falling open slightly.

Then Laurel turned around, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, my God.”

I smiled. “Good morning to you too, Laurel.”

She hurried toward me so quickly that I almost laughed.

“Margot!”

Jonathan followed, looking as though he couldn’t decide whether to hug me or inspect me for signs of a miraculous recovery.

“You’re standing.”

“An astute observation, Jonathan.”

“No, I mean—you’re actually standing.”

“I assure you, I’m not floating.”

Laurel laughed again, but her eyes had already begun to glisten.

Within seconds, Daniel appeared from the conference room, followed by two junior associates who had probably abandoned whatever they were doing when they heard the commotion.

I suddenly found myself surrounded by people who were looking at me as though I’d returned from the dead.

It was both touching and mildly irritating.

“I knew you’d recover,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “I just didn’t expect you to walk in here like this.”

“Would you have preferred that I send a formal announcement first?”

“Honestly? Yes. I could have prepared a speech.”

“You can save it for my funeral.”

“Margot!” Laurel protested.

That earned another round of laughter.

For the first time in months, the sound of laughter filled me with something other than longing for the life I’d had before the accident.

I’d spent too much time staring at the same walls, watching other people move freely while I measured my days by the limits of my recovery. My physiotherapist had warned me that progress would be slow, that some days I’d feel stronger than others, and that I couldn’t expect to regain everything at once.

I had listened—mostly.

But I’d also worked harder than anyone had asked me to.

There had been mornings when simply standing beside my bed had felt like an achievement. On some days, taking even a few steps had left me exhausted. There were evenings when I’d wanted to throw my wheelchair across the room because I was tired of needing it.

Yet here I was; standing in my own office, surrounded by my people.

I looked around at their faces.

“Well, are you all going to stare at me all afternoon, or does this firm still have work to do?”

Jonathan grinned. “She’s back.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“That’s what I mean.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

Claire appeared from the corridor a moment later, her briefcase in one hand and her phone in the other.

She was saying something to a junior when she looked up.

Then she froze.

For a heartbeat, she simply stared at me. “Margot?”

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