Claire Holt Young Novels & Stories

I conceded, “Fair enough. But I think you should go first since you have an unfair information advantage.” She smiled, accepting the challenge. “Claire Renwick, thirty-six, investigative journalist specializing in criminal justice issues and financial crimes. I have two dogs—Winston, the chocolate Lab you must have seen on I*******m, and a recent rescue named Pepper who’s still deciding if she likes me. For fun, I hike, read obscure history books, and binge-watch cooking competitions while eating takeout.”

Oslaz said. "Oh..." Understanding flickered across her face—but vanished just as fast. She scrunched her features in disbelief. "People do that? Young people of today… Did you do that with Zyliah?" She immediately faced me. "Did he do that to you?" I shook my head. She turned to him. "What's her last name?" "Bermout. Claire Bermout. She's the daughter of..." "Danielle Holly Bermout. The famous actress and musician?" Grandma Charlotte wrinkled her nose.

A whiteboard stood in the corner, covered in scribbles — timelines, names, a photo of Daniel Harper circled in red. And standing beside it? The mechanic. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. But not alone. Across from him, hands in the pockets of a long coat, stood Claire. Not the Claire from the dorm. Not the quiet roommate (though some may think she is actually quiet) This was Claire Whitmore — Creative Director at The Grove Collective, Daniel’s office. The woman who had once smiled at Sophia with quiet disdain. Who had lingered too long in Daniel’s doorway. Who had once said, “He deserves someone who understands his world.”

She went to the office early, before the building filled, and knocked on the communications department door and Claire opened it and they looked at each other for the first time knowing what they were. Claire Reyes was thirty-five years old, four years older than Lila, with a bearing that was European and precise and an expression that was guarded in the specific way of someone who has learned to read rooms carefully because rooms had often held surprises she didn't like. She was wearing the Kingsley jaw in the same way Lila wore it — slightly more pronounced, inherited from James rather than from Lila's father's side of the line, but unmistakable once you were looking for it.

A young maid appeared. "My maid saw her," said Juniper. Juniper’s maid curtsy in front of all the princes. "What’s your name?" asked Austin. "It's Claire Samson," answered Claire. Claire have blond hair and blue eyes. She’s a woman in her early twenties. She recently started working for Princess Juniper. "Tell me what did you see?" "I saw this elderly woman cleaning Princess Juniper's room this morning. Then I saw her sneaking around. When I asked her what she was doing, she claimed to be putting stuff away. Then I found her later trying to pawn it off to one of the travelers who was passing by.”

Chapter 1: You Will Have My Seed "Are you sure we should be digging this site, Claire? Haven't you watched enough movies by now to not know what happens next?" Harold, Claire's best friend and contractor asked her in uncertainty. "We could be digging Frankenstein for all we know." Claire rolled her eyes with a scoff. At twenty-three, and freshly achieved the title of an archaeologist, she was eager to find national treasure or something that can prove how old the world is. Something news-worthy, something that can make her see her name on the front page or trending.

Noah stammered, his scent souring with fear. “I invited her,” Chloe interrupted. Her crimson lipstick looked like fresh blood, and she had wrapped a matching silk ribbon into a perfect bow over the silver-blade scar on her wrist. At nearly six feet tall, she looked every bit the high-born Kinton heir. “Chloe, leave her out of our pack politics,” Noah hissed, trying to grab my hand. “Is this the Ryder Global mess hall, Noah? The meat looks exquisite,” I said, stepping back so his fingers missed my skin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE… (Claire the original) Raul and his friends head out bright and early following the bus the teenagers used arrived in for their bonfire party. Claire had invited Kal who also invited his friends and they all rolled out into Claire’s house. Claire is a rich orphan whose parents left her a great amount of money in her savings, good enough to care for her needs until she’s done with college. Claire lived all by herself with no chaperons to watch her. She is a nineteen-year-old lady whose twentieth birthday was coming soon. She had invited Raul and his friends.

I was weeding the garden when I heard a car pull up. She was maybe eighteen, nineteen. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Nervous energy radiating off her. She carried a large envelope and a portfolio case. "Can I help you?" I asked, standing up and brushing dirt from my jeans. "Ms. Nott? I'm Claire. Claire Patterson. I'm..." She took a breath. "I'm Jessica Patterson's granddaughter." The name hit me like ice water. Jessica. Dead for years but still capable of reaching out from the grave.

Alice said, “Claire, you should talk less and eat more.” Claire frowned. “Mrs. Klein, did you think I did it on purpose?” Everyone at the table knew what Claire was thinking. Her hostility was obvious. Seeing that everyone was silent, Claire said, “That’s really not what I meant.” She looked at Danielle and said, “Ms. Wendell, as you know, Hugo is now a manager in a shopping mall. Many girls covet him, so I’m used to being wary about others. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.”