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Media pity
publish date:
2026-03-23 15:53:38
Latest chapter
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Media pity
Clara’s POV“What news, Emma? Talk to me….now.”My voice cracked like thin ice. Cameron was still kneeling between my legs, his hands warm on my thighs, but the heat between us had vanished the second Emma’s name lit up the screen.I sat up straighter on the edge of the mattress, my naked skin prickling in the suddenly cold air, and the phone pressed so hard to my ear the edge dug into my cheek.“Gosh, Clara…” Emma sounded like she was running and crying at the same time. “It’s everywhere. All over the blogs, X, Instagram, TikTok ... .even the local news aggregators are picking it up.”Emma." I was already sitting on the edge of the bed. Cameron had gone still beside me. "What is it? What are they saying?”“It’s blowing up, people are sharing it like wildfire. Everyone is talking about it.”My heart slammed hard enough that I felt it in my throat. “What? What the hell are you talking about? Emma, I swear if you don’t spit it out….”Cameron had already risen. He snatched his own phone
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Little bit of rest.
Clara’s POVTwo weeks had passed since the night of Bryan's kidnap and we finding him at the mall security office, and the world had just kept turning and moving slowly. Bryan was sleeping through most nights now, though Emma still checked on him every hour until dawn. My spring installation sketches had started coming together again, shapes and colors bleeding onto the page like they were determined to fill every space after they’d been locked up in a cage for a long time. And Joe… Joe had simply decided the calendar didn’t apply to him and still stuck himself to the past. Like it was any of my business.That wasn't any of my business at all.I sank deeper into the tub until the water lapped at my collarbone. The heat had turned my skin pink, steam curling between us. Cameron sat behind me, his legs bracketing mine, chest warm against my back. His arms were loose around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder. For once my apartment was quiet, there were no buzzing phones, no l
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Reunion.
Clara’s POVThe Westfield mall security office smelled like burnt coffee and industrial carpet cleaner. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright for midnight. A uniformed guard nodded us through the side door without asking questions.Emma was already there.She stood in the center of the room like she’d been holding herself together by sheer will for the last hour. Her hair was wild, mascara streaked down both cheeks, but when she saw us she didn’t cry harder. She just exhaled, a sound that was half sob, half relief, and opened her arms.I went to her first.She crushed me against her, her fingers digging into my back as if letting go would make everything disappear again. I held on just as tight.“He’s okay,” she whispered into my hair. “He’s okay, Clara. He’s right here.”Behind her, Bryan sat on a low bench against the wall, his knees were drawn up, the blue hoodie still on, hood pulled halfway over his head like armor. A female officer knelt in front of him, speaking softly
Dealing with Mr fucking right. No fear.
Clara’s POVJoe stared at the documents the way a man might stare at a loaded gun someone had just placed on the table between them.His eyes flicked from the first page to me, then back to the columns of numbers, the shell-company names, the transfer dates that mapped out four years of secrets he thought no one would ever bother to trace. His throat worked once, a dry swallow he couldn’t hide. The glass in his hand trembled; amber liquid sloshed against the rim.For a long moment the only sound in the room was the faint tick of the wall clock he’d always insisted be perfectly synchronized to the second.Then his free hand moved slowly and reluctantly toward his phone on the side table.I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. I just watched expressions the way I used to watch storm clouds gather over the city: waiting to see which way the wind would break.He picked up the phone. His thumb hovered over the screen. Another beat of silence. Then he tapped a contact, lifted the device to his e
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Face down.
Clara’s POV I had been silent for too long.Four years of swallowing things that should have been said. Four years of making myself smaller and quieter, of turning the other cheek until I had run out of cheeks to turn. Four years of being told I was nothing by a man who was, it turned out, considerably worse than nothing himself.No more.I stepped away from Emma's couch, into the hallway, and called Daniel.He answered on the second ring. "Clara….""The evidence," I said. "The money laundering documentation. Everything you have. I need a copy of it, tonight."He paused. "Clara, what are you planning to do?""Joe can come after me all he wants," I said. "I can handle that. I have handled that. But he touched my godson, he used a twelve-year-old child to get to me and I am done waiting for the legal process to catch up with what he deserves." I kept my voice steady. "Send me the documents. And Daniel, make sure you keep copies.""I'm sending them now," Daniel said quietly. "Clara, be
Dealing with Mr fucking right. The message.
Clara’s POV "What?" My voice came from somewhere very far away. "Emma… what do you mean missing? What happened?""I went to pick him up from his friend's house and he wasn't there. His friend said someone came and collected him. Someone came and said…." Her voice broke completely. "Clara, someone took my son. Someone took my baby.""We're coming," I said. "Emma, stay where you are. We're coming right now."*****She was on the floor.That was the first thing I saw when we got through her front door, Emma, who I had never once seen crumble, who had stood in Joe's hallway and snapped her fingers at him like calling a dog, sitting on her living room floor with her back against the couch and her knees pulled to her chest and her eyes red and swollen in a face that had gone completely hollow.Marcus was on the phone in the corner, his voice low and urgent, pacing in the tight three-step circle of a man who needed to be doing something and didn't know what.I went straight to Emma, dropped
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