The Man Who Loved Clowns

I was done suffering! Robin had promised herself. She wouldn’t let fate decide her happiness anymore, neither would her failed relationship. Happiness was a foreign language for Robin Clay after the deaths of her sisters, the gruesome murder of her parents, and a devastating breakup with her serial cheating fiancée. She had to move past it all; the hurt, betrayal, pain, anguish, and loss. At the brink of her turning point, she landed a coveted job at McCullen Confectionery, a multi-billion dollar company one could only dream of working for. She soon discovered her boss and CEO, Jack McCullen, was everything she had vowed to never get entangled with; matured, confident, magnetic, powerful, dangerously alluring, and captivatingly beautiful, falters her resolve and leaves her at his mercy. Jack awakened every disastrous desire in her, one she was unprepared for and deeply ashamed of, especially when she was of the view that, he was committed to another woman. Yet, what began as a professional interaction between them rapidly spiralled into a passionate, forbidden attraction marked by stolen moments, intense chemistry and a constant conflict between constraint, lust and her morals. She was torn; suppressing her desires or surrendering to the passion Jack evoked in her—one that felt both intoxicating, sinful and destructive. Packed with a charged, erotic exploration of power; Love, Obsession, Torture explored the thin line between restraint and surrendering to a burning obsession.

A young guy keeps getting into trouble in very funny and unfortunate ways. He wrecked havocs on people too, mistakenly. He hallucinated and had great fantasies about people to brighten up his hearers. Afterwards, he came back to his mundane reality.

Jason Hart's mother, Victoria Hart, suffered from Alzheimer's disease, and during her manic episodes, I was the only person she would recognize or tolerate. Today, as Victoria tightly clamped her fingers around my wrist, refusing to let me leave, Jason looked at me with an expression of profound, agonizing conflict. "I already paid for the VIP amusement park passes," he sighed. "I guess I'll just have to let Jake take your spot. What a waste!" I stared down at Victoria's iron grip on my skin, feeling drained. It had become a clockwork routine: the moment Jason and I planned a romantic date, she would suffer a sudden, debilitating medical emergency. Because I felt morally obligated to stay behind and care for her, our mutual friends took turns stepping in to accompany him so his plans wouldn't fall through. My best friend went with him to catch the sunrise up in the mountains. His brother, Jake Hart, accompanied him to Disneyland. His buddy went with him on a weekend camping trip in the wilderness. But today, I accidentally discovered a group chat on Victoria's phone. It was called "Susan's Guardian Crew." Susan Jennings was Jason's ex-girlfriend. I tapped into the logs and saw the latest message. Jason: [Susan's doing a lot better. Mom, thanks for keeping Ellie occupied with those episodes.] Victoria: [Don't worry about us. Just focus on keeping Susan happy. I've got things handled here.] She then proceeded to tag the entire group: [Everyone, keep your stories straight. Do not blow our cover!] All the familiar people replied: [Got it.] My hands shook as I set the phone down. Hot tears splashed onto the screen, reflecting my pathetic expression. For five years, every date that belonged to me had gone to another woman. And the most humiliating part? The entire world was in on the joke, while I was the only clown kept in the dark.

I waited for my fiancé, Charlie Boyd, to arrive for the wedding, but the one who pushed the door open was Conrad Parker, the deranged son of his family’s chauffeur. Amid the crowd’s mocking laughter, Charlie’s elegant secretary, Crystal Henderson, covered her mouth and said with a smirk, “Your future husband has come to pick you up. Shouldn’t you hurry off and marry him?” “As for Mr. Boyd, I’ll make sure to keep him company today.” Just then, Charlie strolled to the doorway with practiced nonchalance. “It was just a prank. Why the sour face? “That idiot is nothing but a lunatic. Just treat it like a childish game of make-believe.” I met the amused gleam in his eyes and said calmly, “He came wearing a groom’s suit to pick up his bride—how could that be a game?” “If we are marrying, then let it be a real ceremony.”

It was my daughter's first day of kindergarten, but she was nowhere to be found. My wife's first love texted me. "Guess where your daughter is." This was already the fourth time Donald Shaw had played a cruel joke like this. On the day Claire Wilson and I went official, he told me she got into a car crash. I cried as I ran nearly two miles through the freezing night to reach her. When the truth came out, Donald hid behind Claire and laughed. "Just a prank. I only wanted to see how much you loved her." On the day of our wedding, he took Claire away and disappeared with her for twenty-four hours, leaving me alone to face the guests' mockery and her parents' anger. The next day, he came back holding her arm and said casually, "I just wanted to play a little game." When Tina was born, he came with a fake DNA test and said she was his. Only after I was overwhelmed with rage and ended up in the hospital did he finally reveal the real report. Every single time, my wife protected him like a heartbroken girl defending her first love. Then she would turn around and scold me. "He's just a bit childlike. Don't be so serious." And now, that bastard was using my daughter as the punchline of his latest joke. I was shivering with fury and I called my wife. But Claire only said impatiently, "He just wants to play hide and seek. Stop crying already." Then she hung up. My eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It showed my daughter's location. And right now, she was in the middle of a river.

Dad was terrified of being laughed at. Every holiday, he only ever said one thing. “Do not embarrass me.” The relatives were sitting around chatting when I accidentally knocked over a fruit platter on the table. He grabbed me right there and slapped me across the face. At dinner, I reached for a second helping of pot roast, and he kicked my chair out from under me. Later, when it was time to hand out gift cards, Uncle Ray miscounted and came up one short. Without a word, Dad shoved me out into the hallway in nothing but a thin shirt. The cold cut straight through me. I pounded on the door while I cried and apologized. He did not make a sound. He turned to Uncle Ray with an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. I guess I have not taught this kid any manners.” He did not know that his lessons had already conditioned me to flinch at the phrase “laughed at.” Every time I heard it, I froze and felt myself shut down. When I heard him say it again through the closed door, I turned in silence and walked toward the dark bridge at the edge of the neighborhood. I did not know what I planned to do. I only knew I wanted the noise in my head to stop. I reached the railing and stared at the water below. One thought crossed my mind. “Dad, this time, no one will ever laugh at you because of me again.”