Romans & histoires Clara Afton

Clara carefully observed her surroundings. She was afraid that she would be discovered by security. She had never been a stalker before. To execute the plan perfectly, she gathered all of Jonathan's information. She wanted to make sure he fell in love with her quickly. Marble will return to her.

"Nobody touches my pureborn friends and lives to see the morning sun!" ​"Calm down right now, Frostina," Bettoni ordered with a firm, authoritative voice, then turned her warm brown eyes back to Clara, comforting the girl gently. "I need you to tell me what happened, Clara. I promise you I'll make sure we get to the bottom of this nightmare. What'd he look like?" ​"It was dark, Commandress," Clara cried softly, gripping her torn silk blanket tightly. "He grabbed me from behind. I couldn't see his face at all. But he was very tall. He wore rough linen clothing, and smelled strongly of old parchment paper and dark ink."

I pressed my back against it, trembling. Adrian had tried to kill Clara. He was keeping her sedated. He was going to let her die. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and dialed Ivan. He answered on the second ring. “Mrs. Moretti. It’s late.” “I need your help.” My voice cracked. “Please. It’s Clara—my foster mother. Adrian ran her off the road months ago because she caught him with Celeste. Now he’s paying her doctor to keep her in a coma. She’s showing signs of waking up, and he’s—he’s going to let her die.”

Memories of the chilling night she spent guarding the family mausoleum flooded back, rendering her unable to sleep without lights until now. Just as she contemplated seeking help, the lights flickered back to life. But her moment of relief was fleeting. Just as she stood clad in nothing but her undergarments, the lights dimmed once more, accompanied by eerie wails reminiscent of that ominous night. Clara knew this was no mere coincidence; someone was behind it. Summoning her courage, she hastily dressed, intent on fleeing the room. Yet before she could act, a ghostly figure materialized at the window. Its headless form dripped with blood, lunging toward her with a chilling cry for her life.

“But so will we.” Outside, the town slept beneath a sky deceptively peaceful. But beneath its calm surface, something stirred. The fire had not been an accident. The separation had not been fate. And Clara Wilson was no longer a frightened girl fleeing smoke. She was a woman standing at the edge of truth — with her brother beside her, and the man she loved waiting in the shadows to protect her heart. And somewhere in Ashford Hollow, someone was beginning to realize that the past they tried to bury had finally risen from the ashes.

She leaned forward and kicked Lucas in the right spot—the same place she had kicked before. Lucas cursed and pushed her away quickly. Once again, Clara made good use of the opportunity. She pressed the button next to the door and ran out, leaving Lucas shouting and cursing behind. She didn’t fucking care about what happened to him. The only thing on her mind was to find a taxi quickly and go home with Anthony before they worried and started searching for her in the heavy rain. Not many people visited the cemetery during the rainy season, so there weren't many cars parked there. Clara found Elena opening the car window and waving at her. She rushed into the car—ignoring Lucas and all the mess

The days passed quickly and Klara recovered under Aurora’s care but the urge to kill Ralph for ruining her innocence didn’t minimize a bit. She came to Cylantra with good intentions to reunite their families and for that she endured his humiliation, his harsh words, his assaults, his molestation, even though she liked his touches she endured when he denied her kiss and when he hurt her physically.

It was so extremely ordinary and happy until it wasn't so anymore. Clara Caley had slipped in the shower after she came back from work and had hit her head. It was quite a blow, but she thought it wasn't anything important, ignoring it. Back then Jake was the only one home. His father was working late, and Aiden was at a friend's house. Clara had lied down for a quick nap, telling Jake to wake her up after an hour, yet she died in her sleep. When Jake went to wake her up, he couldn't. No matter how much he called her, how much he shook her, how much he screamed and cried, Clara Caley wouldn't wake up.

“I don’t understand. Ashton… the old news reports… everyone said he died in an accident in Switzerland.” Clara shook her head slowly, a weary sadness in her eyes. The single lamp cast long shadows across her face, making her look like an ancient oracle delivering a terrible truth. “He never set foot in Switzerland, Avery,” she said, her voice a low, mournful whisper. “He never even left the grounds of the mansion. Rose made sure of it.” The statement was so contrary to the established narrative that Avery’s mind struggled to grasp it. “But… how? The stories, the obituaries…”

Yet a single answer led to more questions which soon would become uncertainties. Clara stomped her way towards the lake—the one which she fell on the very first day—where the small wooden bridge that led to the Royal Residence was. She faltered in her steps when a small tingle erupted in the pits of her stomach, a strange sensation she only felt when that certain person was somewhere nearby.