How Did Clay React To Hannah'S Tapes In Thirteen Reasons Why?

I died the day my husband forced the doctors to take our baby from my womb. I thought I’d never love again after losing my ex-boyfriend to a heart attack. But fate gave me a second chance. I married the man I adored, a billionaire named Maxwell. Just when I was about to share the joyful news of my pregnancy, I caught him getting cozy with my best friend, Morgana. Worse, he believed her lies: I was a drug addict. The truth? I was battling a severe mental illness triggered by my ex’s death. I needed medication to cope, but Maxwell never cared to understand. He refused to believe a word I said. They locked me away in a private rehab clinic. But that place wasn’t for healing, it was a trap. Morgana used it to cut me off from Maxwell and torment me without consequence. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse… Maxwell signed off on a surgery to take my baby. I lay on that cold operating table, tears streaming down my face, and died in the fire that followed—broken, betrayed, and alone. But I never expected to wake up again. This time, I have a new life. A new family. And even one of my children survived. Maxwell, Morgana—this time, I’m coming back. And you’re both going to pay.

"I thought I was his wife. To him, I was just a placeholder for the woman he actually loved." For three years, Evelyn lived as a ghost. To the world, she was the penniless orphan who hit the jackpot by marrying the cold, ruthless billionaire Caleb Knight. She played the part of the perfect, drab wallflower, cooking his favorite meals, enduring his family’s sneers, and secretly using her hidden Sterling Empire connections to save his company from the brink of bankruptcy. But on their third anniversary, the fairy tale shattered. Instead of a gift, Caleb handed her divorce papers. "Seraphina is back," he said, his voice as cold as ice Humiliated and discarded, Evelyn signs the papers and vanishes without a trace, leaving behind a positive pregnancy test in the trash, a secret Caleb wasn't worth knowing. Two years later, Caleb Knight’s "luck" has run out. His empire is bleeding, and his only hope is a merger with the mysterious, untouchable Sterling Global Group. Gone is the shy, plain girl in the $10 dress. Standing there in couture diamonds, flanked by three of the world's most powerful men, is his ex-wife. She is radiant, she is powerful, and she returns with a little boy who looks just like him and a girl who shares her aura. "Evelyn?" Caleb gasps, falling to his knees. "I... I’ve been looking for you. Please, come home." She steps over his hand as if he were a piece of trash. "I’m sorry, Mr. Knight,"she purrs, her voice dripping with lethal indifference. "The wallflower you threw away is dead. This is the Empress speaking and she finds you quite... boring." He broke her heart. Now, she’s going to break his empire!

I broke up with my boyfriend the year he was at his poorest. A year later, he was famous, and he married a prettier, livelier girl than me. On a late-night show, a host asked him whether a grand slam of awards this early in his career left any regrets. He pulled Mia closer. "I want to know how she's been. Since she left me." The host paused. "She's been... not well at all." Adrian finally smiled. "Then I can stop thinking about her." "But Ms. Whitman left behind a box of tapes before she died." Adrian's smile locked into place. On the tapes were every day and every night of my life, from the day I walked away from him to the day I stopped breathing.

"Cali, drop the knife, you know it is never that hard that you have to kill yourself." "For the last time Blake. I'm not suicidal!!" I throw the knife away. "Then why were you holding that knife?" He asked, worried. I then showed him the apple in my other hand. ------------- Cali Evans, 17, a normal girl with a wacky attitude and sass. Life was going smooth for her until Blake happened. Blake Sanders, 18, the popular, hot, bad boy finds a new mission when he meets Cali. One misunderstanding, a sarcastic girl and a bad boy equals to food fights, bowling nights, dangerous knifes, terrace conversations, monopoly games and maybe some love.

An app had been making the rounds online lately—one that let you text your future self. Right before the final paper of the SATs, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and fired off a message: [Future me, do I end up marrying Liam Tinsley?] The screen flickered, and a reply from an "Unknown Number" popped up almost instantly: [Yes. You had a big, grand wedding.] I clutched my phone and typed back fast: [And Mia Thompson was my maid of honor, right? She's my best friend!] The response came just as quickly: [She was. But she wasn't just the maid of honor, she slept with Liam on your wedding night.] My smile froze mid-expression. Then a second message hit: [Truth is, you didn't need to go through all that trouble tanking your scores just to match his. He bombed the math section on purpose—so he could end up in the same city as Mia, who was at the bottom of the class.] [He pushed you to turn down that top-tier university—not for your sake, but because he didn't want Mia to feel inferior next to your grades.] The pre-exam warning bell cut through the air. But I was frozen, my body ice-cold, unable to move. One last message slammed into my screen: [If you don't believe me, head straight to the motel behind the school after the test. You'll see the truth for yourself.]

She returned with secrets that could destroy them both. He hates her. He wants her. And he’ll never forgive the only girl who still owns his heart. ***** I moaned into his mouth as Noah pressed me harder against the railing, his body solid and demanding against mine. One of his big hands slid down to grip my ass through the thin silk of my dress, squeezing possessively as he ground his hips forward. Gosh, he was rock hard. I could feel every thick inch of him. “Feel that?” he rasped against my lips. “That’s what watching you with him did to me. I’ve been hard all night thinking about dragging you somewhere dark and fucking the attitude right out of you.” My breath hitched, but I forced a smirk. “Poor baby. Jealousy looks good on you, Hale. Too bad you don’t deserve any of this.” He bit my bottom lip hard enough to make me gasp, then soothed the sting with his tongue. “You talk so much shit for someone whose nipples are hard enough to cut glass right now.” His free hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast through the silk, sending heat straight between my legs. “Bet you’re soaked too. Bet if I pushed my hand between your thighs I’d find you dripping for the man you claim to hate.” “Keep dreaming,” I shot back, but my voice came out breathy and weak. My hips rolled against him anyway, chasing the friction I desperately needed.