Alita Claire Leaks Novels & Stories

If you hadn’t come…I would’ve been so mad at you. “I’ll go with you,” Aleah finally said, her voice quiet but steady. “I…I think it might help me remember you.” She pushed herself off the bed, her movements slow but determined. “Wait, what am I supposed to tell Tito Alberto and Tita Elara if they start looking for you?” Claire called out, watching Aleah walk toward the bathroom to grab the clothes she’d left on top of her bag. She had been waiting for her mom all day since it was her discharge day.

Just in case. She tapped “Search.” Then typed: BAILEY — CLASSIFIED Nothing came up. She blinked. Then typed another string, the one her father once said would override any data shield if the source came from internal clearance. PROTECTED: 02-27-B — Secondary Identity A file appeared. Encrypted. Untouched since the year Claire died. Lyla’s breath hitched. She didn’t open it. Instead, she looked toward the bathroom where Bailey had disappeared—and her gut whispered something she could not refuse:

As he was dragged out of the room by the bodyguards, I left with Dean. That night, Lea finally snapped. Refusing to be discarded so easily, she went to the media in a desperate, all-or-nothing move. Overnight, the headline “Popular Ballerina Clara Interferes With A Billionaire’s Relationship” exploded across the internet. I became the home-wrecking mistress everyone condemned, with my past dug up and exposed. Even the fact that I was an orphan was twisted into a so-called sin.

Claire retorted, worry etched over her face. "What is it, Claire, is there an issue with the stadium contractors?” I asked, keeping my voice as flat and professional as possible. "No," Claire said, shaking her head quickly. "It is not the stadium. It is you and Mr. Vance. It is everywhere. Every news outlet, every sports blog, every business forum. It just leaked ten minutes ago." She handed me the tablet. I looked down at the screen, my heart stopped beating, The bold, black text of the headline seemed to jump out at me

“They’re not leaky, I told you that already. It was one joke and nothing happened.” Right as I said it, another cramp twisted low and then this warm, wet feeling hit the front of my shirt. Not a lot, but enough. I looked down and saw two small dark spots blooming right over my nipples through the thin fabric. Oh god no. Not now. Not in front of both of them. Riley’s hand froze on my back. “Ava…” Chloe’s eyes went wide and she actually leaned in closer instead of looking away. “Holy shit. Is that… are you leaking right now? Like actual milk?”

Both Andre and Claire shook their heads after a beat, which left… Leila. “Focusing on who leaked the news isn't important. What's important is that the cat's out of the bag and we need to contain it so it doesn't end up twisted and ugly.” Claire says, turning to Andre. “Do you still have the contact of that press team? Because we're gonna need them.” Andre and Claire chat back and forth about press issues while I zone out, staring out the window car cruised down the road. I'm not a fan of surprises and changes in routine as they deeply throw me off my game.

I haven't told him yet that it’s Claire. At the office, everyone whispers. I hear my name every few steps. I walk straight into my office and close the door. My hands shake, but I press them flat against the desk. Don’t break now, I tell myself. Evelyn enters without knocking. She says the media will twist it worse if I stay silent. She suggests a press conference. I nod, though my throat feels tight. I know she’s right. When she leaves, I stare at the computer screen. My sent folder mocks me. I open the emails Claire leaked—private ones about my clients, my struggles, my thoughts about Adrian. Nothing criminal, just personal. Yet twisted, they look ugly.

CONFESSION. Claire sighed and went straight to the full-length window in her office. She stood before it, looking into space with her hands holding each other behind her. "What do you both want?" She asked the ones in her office. Cain and Mr Emir. "I know who leaked the company's information." Mr Emir said and Claire turned to him, feeling ease washing down her body. "Who?" He pointed at Finn, "Him!" Claire glanced at Finn before turning back to the window. She didn't want to argue with her father. She didn't even want to fight with him because of Finn, so she looked away instead of saying anything.

Claire whispered, color draining her cheeks. Jenna turned to Gino and nodded. He tapped his tablet. Within seconds, two crisp, high-definition photos appeared—one showing Claire, clearly drunk, stumbling barefoot in an alley with her gown torn. The other featured Lea with a powdered nose in a locked bathroom stall, unaware of the tiny black camera installed by someone with a grudge. "These were... difficult to clean up the first time," Jenna said, tilting her head. "Shall I see if your parents' PR teams are still this competent?"

His voice was tense. “Alpha, we’ve confirmed it. Someone leaked the info to the press — Princess Elinda’s connection to the Mafia is trending on every major news outlet.” My blood turned cold. "Who leaked it?" “We're tracking. It looks internal.” I gritted my teeth. “Lock down communication lines. I want names by sunrise.” I hung up and turned — and froze. Clara. She stood there, arms crossed, eyes wide. “You can’t take another mate.” I scoffed. “Watch me.”