The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY_CLAIRE’S POV

Margot rarely called before nine.

So when my phone began vibrating on the nightstand at 7:12 a.m., my heart stopped before I even looked at the screen.

I answered immediately.

“Good morning,” she greeted, though there was nothing light about her tone. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t.” I affirmed.

That wasn’t a lie. I had been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling and replaying yesterday’s pre- hearing conference in my mind.

“What’s wrong?” I enquired.

Margot paused briefly, and for those few seconds, my heart raced quickly against my chest.

Then she dropped the bomb. “Lucian’s legal team filed three motions overnight.”

I sat up slowly, holding the blanket against my chest.

Overnight?

Lucian did not move impulsively. I knew him too well, he didn’t scramble.

If three motions had been filed between midnight and morning, it meant they had been prepared long

before last night.

Before the pre-hearing conference and the latest round of headlines.

Possibly before I had even filed to contest the prenup.

“What kind of motions?” I finally asked.

Margot let out a sigh of frustration. I heard papers shuffling faintly in the background before I heard her speak.

“The first one is a request to accelerate the preliminary hearing.”

I frowned. “That’s normal pressure.”

“It would be if they hadn’t attached eighty-seven pages of supporting documentation.”

Well, that shut me up. Eighty-seven pages!

You didn’t assemble eighty-seven pages overnight.

“You’re saying this was already prepared,” I said slowly.

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“Yes.” Margot answered carefully.

Lucian wasn’t just reacting to the divorce.

No, he was executing a strategy that had existed long before yesterday.

“Alright,” I said after a moment. “What’s the second motion?”

Margot hesitated, which immediately made my stomach tighten again.

“They’ve formally submitted the request for your medical records.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

That again.

“They’re pushing it aggressively,” she continued. “They’re requesting access to mental health evaluations, prescription history, treatment notes and physician testimony if necessary.”

“Yes.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, rising to my feet.

The floor was cold, but not cold enough to be responsible for the shivers going up my spine.

Lucian wasn’t trying to prove anything about the marriage, he was trying to prove something about me.

“Obviously you have nothing to hide, this is a tactic.” Margot said quickly.

“I know.”

But it didn’t matter. Because the courtroom didn’t run on truth- it ran on perception.

If Lucian could suggest that I was emotionally unstable or unreliable, then my claims about the marriage

would become easier to dismiss.

Suddenly, I would become the problem.

“What’s the third motion?” I asked quietly, unsure of whether I even wanted to hear it or not.

“They’ve submitted an expanded witness list.” Margot stated.

I felt something tighten in my chest. Dread.

“Who?”

“Former household staff and a family physician.” Margot answered carefully

I nodded slowly, even though she couldn’t see me.

Lucian knew exactly which angles to apply pressure from. He was brilliant in that way. Brilliant and ruthless.

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“And…” Margot continued like she was walking on eggshells, “a therapist you saw several years ago.”

For a moment, I said nothing.

Then the memory came back to me slowly_ a quiet office, a polite woman asking questions I had never really answered.

It had been a short period and a difficult year in the marriage.

I had stopped going after three sessions.

“I barely remember her,” I spoke honestly.

“That may not matter,” Margot replied gently. “This is character strategy.”

Of course it was.

Lucian wasn’t fighting emotionally.

He was constructing a narrative.

One that suggested I had been volatile during the marriage.

Unstable. Overwhelmed.

A woman who misinterpreted things- a woman who exaggerated.

Lucian understood my weaknesses intimately.

He had lived with them.

Sinclair & Co. was louder than usual when I arrived.

The lobby hummed with conversation, phones ringing, heels striking against the marble floors.

I could feel the difference immediately I stepped in.

Gazes lingered on me way too long. Not hostile, just curious.

Yesterday’s clip had spread everywhere.

The reporter lunging forward.

Lucian pushing him back, whilst pulling me behind him.

The headlines had stopped being informative and started being theatrical. So I quit reading them.

Margot disappeared almost immediately after I arrived- she was pulled into a partner meeting.

“Five minutes,” she promised.

That usually meant twenty.

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So I stood in the hallway outside the conference room, scrolling absentmindedly through emails that

weren’t particularly important.

The door beside me opened.

Nathaniel Vale stepped out.

He paused when he saw me. But he wasn’t surprised.

“Claire,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me. Briefly assessing me.

“Nathaniel.”

For a moment neither of us moved.

He closed the conference room door behind him.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said.

“I didn’t.”

“That makes two of us.”

There was something thoughtful in his expression today.

Less amused than usual. Even casual.

“My client needed to rectify a few things concerning documentation with your legal team.” He said, explaining his reason for being in Sinclair&co as vaguely and professionally as possible.

“Margot called this morning,” I stated.

Nathaniel lifted an eyebrow slightly.

“Then you know.” He simply said, voice flat. 1

“About the motions?”

“Yes.” I answered. “Risky timing for such a move, don’t you think? We’re days away from the court hearing.”

Nathaniel leaned lightly against the wall, folding his arms.

“Our team doesn’t improvise.” He spoke with confidence. Preparation.

That matched what Margot had said.

“Those filings weren’t prepared overnight,” I stated. See

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