Who Are The Main Characters In Clown: My Life In Tatters And Smiles?

"Do I make you wet, Catherine?" ******* She was the girl he never forget and he was the boy she couldn't remember. Catherine Meyer's life has been that of mystery, she couldn't remember anything from her childhood except for the ones she was told. At seventeen she was already living with an uncle she doesn't remember, when her uncle was transferred to New York she had to start at a new school. Her first day in Riverside High School was something she would always remember: She was claimed by a boy she doesn't even know, worst past is... She was attracted to him immediately she saw him.

Every April Fools’ Day, Wilson Hale and Chloe Mercer turned our anniversary into a joke. A fake proposal. A trick ring. A room full of laughter. And every year, Wilson was sure I loved him too much to leave. This year, cake cream slid down my face, my ring hit the marble floor, and he still smiled like I would forgive him by morning. He forgot one thing. I was not Vivian Gray, the lonely girl with nowhere to go. I was Vivian Vescari, daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast. I had left that world because I wanted to be loved before anyone knew my name. For six years, I thought Wilson was that man. Then I learned even his first confession had been an April Fools’ bet. So I stopped being the joke. I went home.

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

I've devoted everything to sponsoring my deceased best friend's daughter, Lara Sandfield, so that she can learn dancing for the past ten years. Thanks to my efforts, she's able to get into the most prestigious art school. My only condition is that Lara has to wear the dress that was sewn by her mother, Kiara Cruz, prior to her death, when it's time for Lara to perform her first dance after her graduation. But on the day of the rehearsal, Lara actually starts a livestream and cuts the dress into shreds with a pair of scissors. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she accuses me of using this torn, old dress to humiliate her and guilt-trip her for the past ten years. "Look, everyone! This is Eliza's so-called 'blood, sweat, and tears'! She wants me to perform my first dance in this bunch of rags! "I'm the principal dancer who has been nominated by a prestigious director! If I were to perform in this dress, it'd ruin my future! I no longer owe Eliza anything!" As I stare at the derogatory comments aimed at me in the livestream, I leave a like there quietly. The dress that Lara has ruined is actually woven by Kiara using gold threads back when she was still alive. The internationally-renowned mentor, whom I've spent a fortune hiring for the past ten years, is actually my older sister, Lucy Newman, who has already retired for many years. Meanwhile, the prestigious dance director has only given Lara the position of principal dancer because she respects Lucy far too much. I leave a comment of my own in the livestream. "I hope you have a glorious future ahead of you." I wonder how Lara can continue dancing, now that she's lost everything in life.

"I want you to be our personal stripper," declared Killian, his voice deep and cold, slicing through the air and quickening her heartbeat. The intensity in their gaze made her knees weaken, a sensation hard to ignore. Nervously, she gulped, managing to stammer, "S-Sir..." Atlas, positioned behind her, added, "We'll pay you thrice what you earn in this club, sweetheart." His warm breath teased the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively closed her thighs, aware of their eyes lingering on her nearly naked form. The offer was undeniably tempting, almost too good to be true. Killian Knight and Atlas De Luca, both successful bachelors in the city, were her employers in which she worked as their assistant, and the unexpected sight of them in the strip club where she worked as a dancer was nothing short of a shock. What added to the surprise was the outrageous proposal they were making! But, being the sole provider of her family, Claire find it hard to decline their offer. For her, money is everything, especially because of their family condition. Being with a sick mother and a brother battling with leukemia, Claire shouldered everything, and she in desperate to make a living. And so, Claire found herself agreeing. Be their stripper? That’s a piece of cake for her. Or so she thought. Fate takes an unexpected turn for Claire when she finds herself falling for the men she promised not to get attached to. However, avoiding two drop-dead hot bachelors proves to be a challenge, especially when fate seems to favor their presence. Becoming the personal stripper for the affluent and influential Killian Knight and Atlas De Luca, Claire finds herself entangled in a web of emotions she never anticipated...