THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORBIDDEN SECRET

Clara’s POV I should have known that some moments are just too perfect to last. If anyone were to ask me to describe happiness, I would have pointed to that evening the warm orange glow of the sun setting as it drips across the plane window, my mother’s beautiful smile glowing beside me, and my brother Liam’s laughter shaking the seat between us. Dad was across the aisle, already dozing off, his newspaper slipping from his fingers. We had just wrapped up a long, sun-soaked summer vacation in Ukulhas in Maldives, and my skin still tasted like salt from the snorkeling we did . Everything felt light… almost too light, as if life itself had softened just to cradle us a little longer. Liam nudged me, his fourteen-year-old grin wide and mischievous. “Clara, if we crash, I’m eating your snacks first.” all giggling . I rolled my eyes, elbowed him lightly, and stole the bag of gummy bears he’d hidden in his hoodie. “You’ll never find them now ,” I whispered He glared dramatical

Clara’s POV The hospital released me after eight days ,eight days of nightmares, painkillers, condolences, and questions I didn’t have the strength to answer. Eight days of replaying the crash in my mind, even though I didn’t remember the impact just only the fire, the screaming Liam’s hand squeezing mine, and then darkness swallowing everything.. it still feels surreal . When the nurse finally wheeled me outside, the cold New York wind hit my face like a slap.. It was strange how life outside kept moving,cars honking, people laughing, businesswomen rushing past with coffee cups and expensive perfume. The city didn’t pause for my grief. It didn’t know me. It didn’t care. I swallowed a shaky breath as a black car pulled up. Not a limousine, Not the family driver. Just a rental. A social worker opened the door for me. “Are you ready, Miss Langford?? No, Not even a little. But I nodded anyway. The ride to the Langford mansion was painfully silent. My body trembled th

Clara didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her in the mirror.Her cheeks were sunken, her lips pale, her usually bright hazel eyes swollen and rimmed with red. She looked like a ghost or just a shadow drifting between grief and exhaustion. It had been only a few days since the funeral and I must say that -wasn’t a funeral without bodies, without closure, without goodbye and her body felt like it had aged ten years.She pulled her robe tighter around herself as she stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom she had grown up in. The room felt different now… quieter, colder, hollow. Every photo frame, every trophy, every childhood memory seemed to whisper gone.She didn’t hear the door open until a voice broke through the intense thought in her head.“Good morning, Princess Clara,” Mrs. Sharon said softly.Clara lifted her head. The older woman’s voice had always been warm, teasing even when Clara was small and refused to eat vegetables or sneaked cookies at midnight. Mrs Sh

I used to think exhaustion had a limit.Turns out ,it doesn’t.I learned that the first week I started juggling two jobs: the café in the morning and the office-cleaning shift at night. My body felt like it was held together by cheap glue and stubbornness. My feet throbbed, my back ached so much,and sometimes my eyelids fluttered like they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to stay open or give up on life entirely.But college didn’t pay for itself.And life, apparently, enjoyed watching me sweat for every cent.During the day, I served coffees to rude humans who thought “extra hot” meant “throw it at the girl with trauma,” and by night, I swept hallways, emptied trash cans, wiped desks in rooms full of tired fluorescent lights.If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be doing this instead of preparing for university in the UK like Dad wanted… I would’ve laughed them right at their faces.But life changes in the blink of an eye.In a breath, in a scream,In a fire.The office

Clara’s POV I woke up with heat still lingering beneath my skin. No matter how many times I told myself to forget last night, my body refused to cooperate. Every breath reminded me of the way that stranger’s eyes dragged over me, like he was peeling back my thoughts one by one. Every movement reminded me of the way my pulse had soared too fast, too reckless, too unfamiliar. “I swear,” Kacey’s voice pulled me back to reality, awwnnn ,someone is blushing. I nearly choked on my own saliva. “Oh—oh come off it. I was just thinking.” “Mhm.” She smirked knowingly, tapping her spoon against her mug. “Thinking… or remembering?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because she wasn’t entirely wrong. Every time I blinked, I saw him again the man in the wrong restroom, the one who looked like sin sculpted into a human body. The one who made me forget my own name for a heartbeat. And I didn’t even know his. By lunch break, the café buzzed with customers, and I am used to the chao