Todos los capítulos de The Wife He Threw Away : Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

I didn’t notice when the office went quiet. At some point, the noise had thinned out—voices faded, footsteps disappeared, and the building sounded like it was already settling into something softer. By the time I looked up, it was already late. Too late. But I didn’t stop working. I couldn’t. My desk was still covered with files spread open, marked notes, timelines laid out with the same precision I always worked with. Everything was exactly where it should be. Everything made sense. Except— It didn’t. I stared at the page in front of me, using my eyes to track the same line for what had to be the fourth time. Or the fifth. The numbers before me were clear. The argument was solid. And yet somehow, I wasn’t moving forward. My pen hovered over the margin for several seconds before tapping lightly against the paper. Then again. And again. I exhaled slowly, shutting my eyes tight. I just needed to focus, that was all. I shifted slightly in my chair,

The phone rang twice. “Lucian.” Eva answered, voice soft but careful. Anyone listening in would hear nothing but concern. “I’ve seen the news,” she continued. “I truly didn’t expect things to escalate this way.” I didn’t respond immediately. Because that, more than anything, was a lie. “You knew exactly what would happen,” I countered. There was a small pause. “I told the truth,” Eva replied gently. “What people do with it… isn’t something I can control.” Another lie. “They’re tearing through my building,” I said flatly. “People are getting hurt.”She exhaled faintly, seemingly sympathetic. God, she was good at playing the victim. How many times had I fallen for her ‘damsel in distress’ act? How many times had I judged and chastised Claire based off something Eva had said? I pushed the thought away. “That’s not what I wanted,” Eva said. “But you have to understand… they care about me. They’re reacting.” No. Her fans weren’t just reacting out of the blue.

The KVEK boardroom overlooked half the city. The space was all glass walls and muted lighting. A skyline built by people exactly like the ones sitting around this table. Powerful, precise, and ruthless when needed be. I stood at the head of the table, one of my hands resting lightly against the back of a chair as the screen behind me displayed the latest projections tied to the Dhark Holdings crisis. None of them looked good. Obviously. “Public sentiment is still overwhelmingly against Dhark Holdings,” I stated, clicking to the next slide. “But as expected, Eva Sterling has avoided making a direct accusation.” Victoria Merlyn leaned back in her chair lazily. “Strategically.” I ignored the interruption. “For now,” I continued, “that works in our favor. Suggestive language creates outrage, but it also creates legal distance.” Keller, one of the senior partners, nodded slowly. “Meaning?” “Meaning she can still be sued.” I stated. “If we prove malicious intent.” The

My luxurious penthouse overlooked half the city. Floor-to-ceiling glass, soft gold lighting. Absolute luxury. And beneath me? Absolute chaos. I sat in the corner of the velvet sectional, with my right leg crossed elegantly over my left, a glass of red wine resting lightly between my fingers as the screens across the room continued flashing nonstop updates. News anchors, public outrage, social media explosions. The first publicist I ever had taught me that “sometimes, any publicity is good publicity”. I couldn’t help but smile to myself, as I thought about how good my new movie would do at the box office. Because my name was everywhere. And so was his. “Dhark Holdings Crisis Deepens.” “Global Backlash Intensifies.” “#CancelDharkHoldings surpasses forty million mentions on social media” I watched another clip of screaming protesters outside Dhark Holdings before taking a slow sip of wine. Calmly. Power was never about love. It was always about contro

Nathaniel’s home was quieter than I expected. Not empty, not cold. Just… calm. The kind of calm I still didn’t entirely know what to do with. Soft jazz played somewhere low in the background, blending into the muted sounds of the city. The kitchen lights cast a soft, gold glow across the marble counters, and for once, there were no files spread between us. No courtroom strategies, no headlines, no discussions about Langford vs Virex or KVEK or even Lucian Dhark. Just dinner. Or at least our attempt at it. “You’re cutting those like you’re angry at them,” Nathaniel observed dryly from across the counter. I glanced up from the vegetables beneath my knife. “Maybe I am.” “That tomato had a family, Claire.” I rolled my eyes, letting out an amused breath and continued slicing the tomatoes. Nathaniel smiled faintly at that before returning his attention to the pan on the stove. The entire scene felt strangely domestic. Strangely easy. And somehow, I realized