The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 289

By the time I arrived at Sinclair & Co., I was still smiling.

I couldn’t seem to stop.

Every time my mind returned to the ultrasound image tucked safely inside my handbag, something warm spread through my chest.

Six weeks.

I was six weeks pregnant.

I was going to have a baby.

For the first time in years, the future didn’t look like something I had to be nervous about.

It looked beautiful.

I walked through the firm’s reception area with a smile that apparently, even Daniel noticed.

He looked up from his desk. “Okay?”

I stopped. “Okay what?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re smiling like a cat with milk.”

“Am I not allowed to smile?”

“You are.” He leaned back in his chair. “But that particular smile usually means something’s happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Liar.” Daniel mouthed.

I laughed softly.

“Get back to work, Daniel.”

He grinned. “Okay, Mrs. Dhark.”

I walked away before he could ask anything else.

I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Not yet.

Lucian had to be the first person to know.

I wanted that moment to belong to us.

⸻

The morning passed quickly after that.

Or perhaps I was simply distracted.

I worked through emails, reviewed documents and went over some of the case files that needed attention before the trial resumed.

But every few minutes, my hand would drift toward my handbag.

The ultrasound was still there.

I didn’t need to look at it again, I already knew what it showed.

Still, I wanted to.

At one point, I pulled it out beneath my desk and stared at the blurry image.

My heart tightened.

There was barely anything visible, yet somehow, I could already imagine tiny fingers and tiny feet.

I could imagine Lucian holding our baby.

The thought made me smile again. After a moment, I carefully slipped the image back into my handbag.

I was going to tell him tonight.

Maybe after dinner. Or maybe whenever we were alone.

I hadn’t decided yet.

But I knew I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

⸻

I was halfway through reviewing a document when a knock sounded on my office door.

I looked up.

One of the firm’s junior assistants stood there. “Ms. Moreau?”

“Yes?”

“This was brought up for you.”

She held out an envelope.

I frowned. “For me?”

“Yes.”

I took it.

There was no logo on the envelope. No sender, no address—mothing.

Just my name written across the front.

‘For Claire Moreau.’

“Who delivered it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Reception said someone left it downstairs.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the envelope. “Did they say who?”

She shook her head. “No.”

I flashed a small smile. “Thank you.”

She left.

I stared at the envelope.

Something about it bothered me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify