Novel & Cerita Believing Me Ingrid Clayton

Standing in front of me as Clara Everett—the woman I had paid five million dollars to silence, now the one holding the match. Her voice stayed in my head, not loud but fixed, lodged somewhere it couldn’t be ignored. She believed every word she said, and that was the part that didn’t sit right. Not the accusation itself, but the certainty behind it, like she had lived through something I had only ever decided from a distance.

"That woman is Clara Sterling. And this place, this house, is going to save lives. I know because she saved mine." She stepped back. The room was silent. Then someone started clapping. Then everyone. I wiped my eyes and walked to the podium. I had prepared a speech, but the words blurred on the page. I set the paper aside. "I was married for ten years to a man who made me believe I was worthless," I said. "He filmed me. He shared me. He hid my identity in a locked drawer. He convinced me that I had nowhere to go and no one who would take me in. I believed him for a very long time."

“You poor girl. You are so young, so naive. I supposed I can’t blame you for being hopeful.” I swallowed. “Concerning what?” Ingrid dropped her mug onto the counter, walking around it until she was right in front of me. She was a tall woman. And when she was near me, she was even more tall and intimidating. When she raised her hand, I flinched on instinct. But she wasn’t about to slap me, she only placed her manicured hand on my shoulder. “My son and Clarissa have at least ten years on you, Meadow. They were each other’s first loves.” She laughed. “You don’t think Alaric would ever love you the way he loved Clary, do you?”

At first, Clay found it revolting, but over time he realized that after so many years of keeping away, his family was another piece he needed to fill the void he had been carrying around for years. "Lorraine!" Caterina yelled again "How's it living with grumpy?", he asked with concern Lorraine laughed slightly and said, "We're writing our final paper today. It's Mrs Hughes's, so she doesn't want us to be late", "The terrifying middle-aged lady?" Clay asked "Yeah, that's the one.", "Okay, good", Clay said and was about to end the call, when suddenly he said "Lorraine..." and waited a few moments after she answered "I saw your videos. The one at the Art Convention and I just want to say I'm pr

“Easy for you to say.” “It is,” Ingrid agreed without shame. “Because I know she’s beneath us. Beneath you.” She leaned slightly forward, her voice dropping to a coaxing whisper. “You don’t need her. You have me. I’ve always been here. Loyal. Loving. Everything she wasn’t.” She paused, watching them closely. “You were too kind to her. And for what? She spat on your kindness. Betrayed your trust. That girl doesn’t deserve your thoughts.”

“Sweetheart, please forgive me. I strayed long ago, and I know how painful it is for you to face the consequences of my past, but I cannot abandon my son.” Mounia cooed sweetly, stepping closer. “Clayton, the past is the past. It was before my time. Igor is a lovely boy, and I am happy to be his stepmother.” Her expression suddenly sharpened into a playful, deadly smirk. “But if you ever cheat on me, I will cut your balls off.” Clayton swallowed hard, knowing she wasn't joking. “Thank you for understanding, my love,” he squeezed out from a tight throat.

“I’m not here to be manipulated with sweet names. I’m here to figure out a way out of this shit.” “I care only about the truth—how far your brother’s fallen and how you’re all murderers pretending to be victims.” His face darkened—the same look as that night he took advantage of me. “You don’t know us entirely.” “I know enough!” I shouted. “I’ve seen blood on your hands. I’ve watched you lie, kill, and cover it up like it’s a sport. You think one tragic time in jail makes you pay for all that?” “You talk like you’re not one of us,” Clayton chuckled. “Your marriage makes you part of this. To prove your innocence, you have to keep playing your part.”

Every page inside was a record of my supposed sins, line after line in my own handwriting. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won't lie again." This time, I wanted to write something true. My vision was almost gone. I wrote through tears. "Mommy, I really love you." "I really am in pain. Why won't you believe me?" "Mommy. Please. Just believe me once." I finished the last word. The pain stopped. Something I had never felt before took its place — weightless, quiet, and clean. I rose and looked down. I saw myself slumped over the desk with one arm hanging at my side, still.

My life was on an endless downward spiral of shit. Further into the depths of nothingness. No light, no hope, no 'better tomorrow'. It's never been better. But sometimes I wanted to lie to myself and try to pretend that everything was fine. Just like today when I went to the campfire on the lake beach outside of town because of Tracy Hemmil. Tracy, who liked to call herself Trix, was a ferocious metalhead and impressed me from the first moment I laid eyes on her. Short black hair, smoky gray eyes and a mysterious smile.

I ranted out “ I had a life to live,” Clara muttered “ Then you shouldn't have given birth to me, everyone out there knows I'm an orphan” I muttered “ Do you know what that means, I can get you locked up for twenty fours for breaking into my office, invading my privacy, so listen just the way you've never existed for my whole thirty years, continue following that path for your own good Clara Douglas” “ Chuckles, I really want to watch you get me locked up, I can always get myself out. I'm Clara Douglas for a reason” Clara snorted out