All Chapters of The Wife He Threw Away : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

I woke up before my alarm. Not because something pulled me out of sleep, but because my body was already starting to adjust. The unfamiliarity of the apartment was fading quickly, just enough that I no longer hesitated when I moved. I didn’t have to think about where things were. I didn’t have to pause and orient myself. I just… got up. The floor was cool beneath my feet as I walked across the room. The lights filtering through the curtains were soft against my eyes. I moved through my routine seamlessly, without stopping—coffee first, then the file I had left on the counter the previous night. I skimmed through the notes while the coffee machine hummed quietly. Today, my thoughts were clear. No drifting, no interruptions. Just work. By the time I set the mug down, I was already reaching for my clothes. I didn’t stop to hesitate over options. I didn’t second-guess myself and my sense of style. I simply chose grey suit with pants. It was practical. Just like

I kicked my shoes off just inside the door without thinking. They landed exactly where I expected them to. My bag followed, resting against the same chair I had used the night before. The files I had brought home from the office were already spread across the table. Nothing felt unfamiliar. Nothing felt temporary. I moved through the apartment easily and instinctively, because I had already learned its rhythm. It was mine. It didn’t feel new anymore. I loosened the sleeve of my blouse as I walked toward the table, my attention already shifting back to the documents waiting for me. L I hadn’t brought the case files home because I had to. I brought it because I wanted to. Because it mattered. I pulled out a chair and sat, tucking one leg beneath me slightly as I flipped through pages. Then my phone buzzed softly against the table. I glanced at it. It was a message from Nathaniel. “Did you settle in?” My fingers hovered for a brief second before I re

The drive back to the mansion felt longer than it should have. I knew the reason it felt longer wasn’t traffic, neither was it the distance. It was the afterimage of her. The afterimage of Claire. The way she had looked across that table—composed, steady. The way she looked untouched by anything that used to bind her to me. And the way she had said it. “I am.” Simple and final. Those two words stayed with me longer than they should have— longer than I allowed anything to. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was already quite irritated. If only Eva hadn’t insisted on hosting yet another dinner, I would have been able to host a meeting with my business associates in the mansion, instead of a restaurant. And I wouldn’t have seen Claire. With him. Nathaniel Vale. I hated the way he made her laugh, although I liked seeing her smile. She had looked beautiful tonight, in a short cream dress, with her dark hair falling down her shoulders, a sharp contrast t

I stood there with the half-full glass still in my hand. The faint scent of champagne lingered—sharp, unmistakable. My gaze rested on Eva, who stood across the room, watching me— composed. Too composed. “You’ve been drinking.” It wasn’t a question. No, this was an accusation. Eva’s expression shifted instantly—not into guilt, but offense. “It’s a sip,” she said, her tone too light and dismissive. “You’re overreacting.” I didn’t respond, so she continued. “You really think I’d be careless?” she said, raising her brows slightly. “About something like this?” She wanted that to land. She wanted me to feel unreasonable. It was an old tactic of hers— I would recognize it anywhere. I set the glass down slowly, then took a few steps closer to her. My gaze remained steady on her, assessing. “You said you were being careful.” I stated. For a second, it looked like she didn’t know what to say. It looked like she was scrambling for her words. But she recove

The room was louder than it looked. Every conversation carried weight. Every glance meant something. Deals were being tested in half-finished sentences. Alliances were being measured in glances. It was a room full of power— a room full of all the important people. I moved through it all slowly, a glass of champagne in my hand untouched. My attention shifting from one clustered group to another. “Observe,” Margot had said. Dhark Holdings was at the center of it all. Not openly, but noticeably. They were one of the biggest corporations in the country after all. The first thing I noticed was how certain names came up too often. How certain topics were avoided too quickly. And every time the conversation edged too close to internal operations— it was cleanly redirected. I knew it was deliberate. I shifted my weight, listening without appearing to, catching fragments, filing them away, engaging in small conversations when I needed to. Then something pulled at