The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 284

I had spent the better part of the week pretending I wasn’t planning a birthday party.

Mostly because I didn’t want Lucian to know.

The problem was that keeping secrets from Lucian Dhark had never been particularly easy.

The man noticed everything— be it a misplaced document, a change in someone’s tone, a discrepancy of a few thousand dollars in a financial report, or something as ridiculous as a missing cufflink.

Apparently, however, he had yet to realize that half the staff at his mansion had been sneaking around preparing his birthday celebration behind his back.

I would count that as a victory.

“Are you sure this is enough?” I asked Camilla.

She looked around the terrace.

“I think you’ve already gone far beyond enough.”

I smiled.

Perhaps she was right. The terrace looked nothing like it had when I’d first returned to the mansion.

The furniture had been rearranged. A long dining table was stretched beneath the pergola, covered in crisp white linen. Warm lights had been wrapped around the wooden beams, casting a soft glow over the space.

There were flowers everywhere. Not too many though— I didn’t want it to look like a wedding.

But it was enough to make the place feel alive.

I’d specifically chosen white roses and lilies— Elena Dhark’s favorites.

At least, according to Lucian and Camilla.

I’d remembered Lucian mentioning it years ago.

He’d said it casually, almost absentmindedly, during one of our very few conversations about his childhood.

I had never forgotten. And neither had Camilla, who had also loved Elena like family.

Camilla had helped me find several old photographs of Lucian and his mother that had been stored away in one of the mansion’s rooms.

We’d had them professionally restored and framed. And now they were displayed around the terrace.

One showed Lucian as a little boy, sitting on his mother’s lap. Another showed him standing beside her with an expression of exaggerated seriousness that made me laugh every time I looked at it.

And there was one of the two of them sitting right here, on this terrace years ago.

Lucian couldn’t have been more than ten. His mother was smiling at the camera. He wasn’t.

He was glaring at whoever had taken the photograph.

I had teased him about it when we’d first found it.

“He looks like he was already tired of people.”

Camilla had laughed. “He was always so serious.”

I looked at the photograph again. Something about it made my chest ache.

Perhaps because I’d recently learned how much these memories meant to him.

Or maybe it was because I’d seen the sadness in his eyes when he’d admitted that he was beginning to forget his mother’s voice.

I turned toward the far end of the terrace.

A small table had been arranged there. On it was an old record player.

Beside it sat a bottle of wine I’d specifically requested— his mother’s favorite.

And next to that was the gift I’d spent days arranging.

A restored photograph. Not the one of him as a child. No, this one was different. I’d found tucked away in an old cardboard box.

Lucian’s mother was standing in the garden with one hand resting on his shoulder.

Lucian looked like he was in his early teens. He was taller than her already.

His smile had been big, bright and beautiful.

I’d never seen that photograph before. It was one of the few pictures I’d found where he looked completely carefree.

I had it framed.

And beneath it, I’d added a small inscription.

‘For the memories that never leave us.’

I stepped back took one last look around.

For a moment, I felt strangely nervous. I’d hosted countless events during my years as Lucian’s wife.

Board dinners, charity galas, business celebrations and private parties.

I’d always known exactly what to do.

But this felt different.

This wasn’t for Dhark Holdings. It wasn’t for investors. It wasn’t for the board.

Honestly, it wasn’t even really about his birthday. It was about him as a person.

About the man behind the billionaire. The son behind the CEO. The little boy behind the man who had spent years convincing himself that vulnerability was weakness.

“Claire?”

I turned to see Camilla standing behind me.

“You’re staring again.” She said.

I smiled. “I was just thinking.”

“You’re always thinking— you and your husband are alike in that way.”

Instead of correcting her about the title ‘husband’, I laughed.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She was right I didn’t.

I glanced toward the entrance. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Camilla’s expression softened. “I think he’ll love it.” She said. “I think he’ll be in awe.”

I hoped she was right. Because Lucian had been through too much.

He deserved one night where he wasn’t thinking about Eva or Hart or the trial. Or even Dhark Holdings.

Especially with a bullet wound still healing in his body.

He deserved to simply be Lucian for one night. And I wanted to give him that.

⸻

By the time Lucian arrived, most of the guests had already settled into their seats.

I stood near the table, trying very hard to look casual.

Nathaniel was talking to Daniel, Laurel was laughing with Jonathan and a handful of senior Dhark Holdings executives were scattered around the table.

Even two board members had shown up. Amongst them was director Whitmore, who had advised Lucian to sell the company when the scandal about Eva’s supposed miscarriage had erupted.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d invited them. Perhaps because despite everything that had happened, they were still part of Lucian’s life.

And perhaps because I wanted them to see the man they had nearly replaced standing in front of them again.

The sound of footsteps approached.

Then Lucian appeared.

He stopped in his tracks at once.

For a moment, he said nothing. His dark eyes simply moved across the terrace—

The lights, the flowers, the photographs, the table.

Then finally—

Me.

His expression changed.

“Claire.” He called, his voice softer than usual.

I smiled. “Happy birthday babe.”

He stared at me. “You did this?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He walked toward me slowly. Even as he walked, his eyes kept moving around the terrace.

When he reached me, he lowered his voice. “Why?”

I frowned. “Because it’s your birthday, silly.”

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