Claire White thought she had it all—luxury, love, and loyalty—until one message shattered the illusion. When her longtime boyfriend, Lucas Stone, is caught slipping back into the shadow of his ex, Claire walks away from the high walls of his mansion and into the arms of a new kind of danger: vulnerability, and real affection. Enter Henry Locke, the black sheep of a powerful dynasty. With scars of his own and a past tangled with Lucas, Henry becomes her unlikely refuge. But love in high society comes with a price—and secrets don\\\'t stay buried. Torn between a man who thinks he owns her and one willing to lose everything for her, Claire must decide what freedom is really worth. "The Last Time I Cried His Name" is a modern tale of toxic love, redemption, and one woman’s fight to reclaim her story in a world that loves to watch women fall—unless they rise spectacularly.
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1
The sound of running water stopped abruptly.
I had planned to wait. To do it later.
But...
The glow of the phone screen pierced the darkness, stabbing at my eyes.
“Lucas, these years… I haven’t been well.”
That message—pinned to the top—was from her. His ex. The one I had never met, yet who haunted every part of our relationship.
I wanted to laugh, but something was lodged in my throat.
Lucas Stone pushed open the bathroom door.
Steam spilled out like a drifting veil of fog.
His hair was still dripping wet.
I looked up and met his eyes.
He didn’t say a word—just reached out and took the phone from my hand.
His touch was gentle, but left no room for resistance.
The lamp on the table cast a soft yellow glow.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack—slowly, deliberately.
"Had enough?" he asked, voice calm as still water.
My throat tightened as I opened my mouth.
“Do you really have to go?”
The words came out like they were forced through clenched teeth.
He held the cigarette between his lips and looked up at me.
In his eyes was something unreadable. Something I couldn’t name.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said.
I finally smiled.
But tears slipped down my face anyway, uncontrollably.
Like pearls from a broken string.
“Lucas Stone.”
My voice trembled as I spoke.
“If you walk out that door tonight, then we’re done.”
2
He laughed.
A quiet, almost indulgent laugh—like I was a child saying something silly.
“Claire White, don’t be dramatic,” he said.
His voice was steady, like commenting on the weather.
“I mean it, Lucas Stone.”
Tears blurred my vision.
He reached out and gently brushed my cheek with his fingers.
“Be good. I’ll be right back.”
His tone shifted—soft, coaxing, like talking to a child.
That gentleness cut deeper than any coldness ever could.
“Lucas Stone, you’re my boyfriend.”
I shoved his hand away.
The grief swelling inside me felt like a dam about to burst.
“But now, for some other woman, you can stop halfway through… even with me!”
“How am I supposed to believe that nothing’s going to happen when you see her?”
His brow furrowed.
Like cracks forming across the surface of a frozen lake.
“Claire White, this isn’t dignified.”
His eyes were suddenly cold—like a winter night.
All the warmth was gone.
He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.
“Calm down.”
He opened the closet, then shut it again.
Came out dressed, his watch catching the light on his wrist.
His footsteps down the stairs echoed like the ticking of a countdown.
Then—silence.
The mirror reflected my face.
Smudged, like a painting ruined by rain.
“Claire White, don’t be pathetic.”
I stared into the glass as I whispered it to myself.
Each word sliced through my throat like a blade.
3
I made up my mind to leave.
Dragging my suitcase, I walked out of Lucas Stone’s villa.
Somehow, the word got out.
People from our circle stood around the courtyard, whispering.
Their eyes were sharp, cutting.
Over the years, I had done so many foolish things for Lucas Stone.
Like a moth to a flame.
My reputation was already in ruins.
The colder he grew toward me, the more they despised me.
A spoiled heir stepped in front of me.
“Claire White, come with me instead.”
His eyes made my skin crawl.
“A woman like you… does it matter who you’re with?”
I pushed his hand away.
But he yanked my hair.
Pain shot through my scalp.
I stumbled. My heel snapped.
He let go, sneering. “If Lucas doesn’t want you, you’re nothing.”
The crowd fell silent.
Someone finally spoke.
“Claire White, it’s easy to leave through that gate. But coming back? Not so much.”
“Is that so?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
Like a feather floating in the air.
But they all heard me.
“Then remember this—it’s me who’s walking away. I don’t want Lucas Stone anymore.”
I kicked off the broken heel.
Pulled my suitcase behind me and walked out the gate.
Behind me came the whispers.
“She’s lost it, huh?”
“Yeah right. Just acting. Once Lucas comes back, she’ll crawl right back.”
“Just like last time.”
“Exactly. Remember how she dressed up all sultry to win him over again?”
“No wonder Lucas kept her around.”
These disgusting words—I’d heard them for nearly a year.
Ever since Lucas Stone began to grow cold toward me.
And so, naturally, everyone else followed his lead and looked down on me.
4
The video from that night started circulating through our social circle.
Like ripples on water—it spread fast and wide.
My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Everyone in the group chat was fishing for gossip in roundabout ways.
I didn’t respond.
I simply left the group.
Then I deleted every single contact that had anything to do with Lucas Stone.
For five days, things were finally quiet.
Then Lucas called.
“I heard what happened that night, Claire. You didn’t deserve that,” his voice was honey-sweet.
“I’ll deal with them when I get back,” he added, firm and decisive.
I said nothing.
“I got you the latest jewelry set…” His voice softened even more.
“Lucas Stone,” I cut him off.
“We’ve broken up.”
My voice was calm.
There was a pause on the other end, then a quiet chuckle.
“Claire White, I’ll give you one chance to take that back.”
“No need, Lucas Stone.” I chuckled too—cold and clear.
“You know my patience is limited,” he said, his tone suddenly sharp.
“I know. That’s why, from this moment on, weddings, funerals, and everything in between—we’re done.”
I said it slowly, deliberately.
Two seconds of silence.
Then a click. He hung up.
I stared at the screen, then hit "Delete" without hesitation.
This relationship was like a piece of rotten fruit—tossing it out hurt at first, but what came after was relief.
A rush of lightness, like taking off a weight I’d been carrying for years.
I looked out the window.
The sun was shining.
5
The days passed.
But Lucas Stone’s presence never really left.
Photos of him kept popping up online—with different women, each more stunning than the last.
In less than a month, he’d been through several.
They were all eerily similar—ballet-slim bodies, snow-pale skin, waist-length black hair, almond eyes just slightly upturned.
All of them looked like her—the one who had once broken him. And then broke me.
I shook my head.
None of it mattered to me anymore.
Time slipped through my fingers.
Forty days had gone by.
Then, out of the blue, Emma FaceTimed from Paris.
“I’ve set you up on a date,” she said, getting straight to the point.
I frowned instantly.
“Claire, just because you’ve been burned once doesn’t mean you stop trying.” Her voice was gentle, firm.
“Great men are like diamonds—rare, but eventually, someone finds them.”
“You deserve the best.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
Coming from Emma, those words carried real comfort.
She understood heartbreak better than I ever could.
She’d spent seven long years tasting its bitterness.
On the other side of the screen, Emma watched me change outfits like a hawk with a magnifying glass.
“Trust us—this dress will make people forget how to breathe.”
I turned to the mirror.
The silk clung to my skin like water, tracing every line of my body.
I blushed at my own reflection.
Memories surged.
Lucas once said dresses like this were too flashy.
But that one night, the look in his eyes said something else entirely.
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