The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 276

I barely made it to my car before I slammed the door hard enough to make the windows tremble.

For several seconds, I simply sat there in silent fury, my hands gripping the steering wheel.

I didn’t realize how hard I had been clenching my jaw until it started hurting.

Claire.

That worm had somehow managed to get under my skin without even raising her voice.

She hadn’t threatened or mocked me. She hadn’t even looked particularly triumphant.

That was what made it worse. She had looked at me like I was already finished. Like she knew something I didn’t.

I hated that look.

I hated her.

But more than anything, I hated the uncertainty.

Hart was supposed to be the one thing I didn’t have to question. For ten years, I had never had reason to question his loyalty.

Not once.

He had always been there. Whenever I needed something done, I knew Hart would do it for me.

Whenever someone became a problem, Hart made the problem disappear.

Whenever I was afraid, he reminded me that he would protect me.

He had never asked too many questions.

He had never hesitated.

He had never looked at me the way he’d looked at me during our last conversation.

As though he were seeing me for the first time.

I pulled my phone from my handbag.

My thumb hovered over his name.

I shouldn’t call.

The detectives were monitoring his calls.

I knew that.

Anything I said could potentially be used against me.

But I didn’t care.

I needed to hear his voice.

I needed to know.

I pressed his name.

The call connected after several rings.

“Hello?”

His voice was low. Tired.

I closed my eyes. “Hart.”

There was a pause. “Eva.” He finally said.

Something about the way he said my name made my stomach tighten.

I forced a certain fondness into my voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Hart was silent— which was awkward, but I forged ahead regardless.

“Did you sleep?” I asked.

“Some.”

“Are they treating you well?”

“I’m fine.”

I leaned back against the headrest. “You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m in prison, Eva.”

“Police custody,” I corrected automatically.

A faint breath escaped him. “Whatever.”

I ignored the irritation in his voice.

“I’ve been worried about you.” I said.

It wasn’t completely a lie— I had been worried sick these past couple of weeks about what he would or wouldn’t say and the deal Claire and Margot would have no doubt offered him by now.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” I softened my voice. But I am.”

Another beat passed.

I hated silences with Hart. They were never supposed to exist between us.

I had always known what he was thinking. But now… now I wasn’t so sure.

“You know I’d never let them hurt you,” I said.

“I know.” He concurred.

But I noticed that his answer came too quickly. Almost mechanically.

A small frown formed on my face. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I said, the corner of my lips lifting up in a small smile. Because that was what I needed to hear.

I needed reassurance. That familiar feeling of having a guard dog who would willing give life to save me.

I looked out through the windshield. “I’ve been trying to get your lawyers to work on everything.”

“I know.”

“And I’m going to make sure they do everything possible to protect you.”

“Eva—”

“I’m serious.” I insisted.

“I know.”

I frowned again. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because I know you’re serious.”

There was something strange in his voice— even worse than the last time we’d spoken. Something distant.

I sat up. “Hart.”

“Yes?”

“You’re still with me, aren’t you?”

Silence.

I felt my heart skip. “Hart?”

He exhaled. “I don’t know.”

My whole body went numb.

For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong. “What?”

“I said I don’t know.”

A strange chill moved through me as I stared at the dashboard.

Even after our last exchange, I never imagined Hart would actually seriously consider testifying against me.

No, that isn’t even supposed to be possible.

“Hart, what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’m trying to figure some things out.”

“What things?” I asked immediately.

He didn’t answer.

I laughed softly, though I knew there was nothing funny about any of this.

“You’ve been in there too long.” I said lightly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’re getting into your head.”

“No one is getting into my head.”

“Then why are you talking like this?”

He was quiet.

I could hear the faint sounds of movement somewhere in the background.

A door.

Footsteps.

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