Claire Holt Young Novels & Stories

CLAIRE Four years had passed since my world had shattered. Claire Darlington—the woman who had been humiliated, betrayed, and discarded—was gone. In her place stood Clara Everson, CEO of Erebos Pharmaceutical. Sharp, focused, unyielding. Every scar, every sleepless night, every moment of pain had carved her into someone who could survive… and even thrive. My company had grown from a modest lab into a powerhouse, and every achievement reminded me that I could exist on my own terms. That I could command my life, and no one could take that away.

This was her exception, and she believed Charmine would appreciate it. “HollyOak Entertainment? Claire Eastly? Who?” Charmine squinted her eyes, trying hard to recall the name while asking the rest of them who were present. Every word stung, fueling the fire that burned inside Claire. Her face was red with suppressed rage. ‘How could she not even know about Claire Eastly and HollyOak Entertainment?’ “We’re the top company in the entertainment industry. We have most of the popular celebrities, and ninety percent of the best actress award are given to us,” explained Claire.

He asked, “And you? What about you? Where do you work?” Matt was still at it, trying to drag Claire down, explaining that Alric was the man on the news with the governor, but she was so fired up that she had momentarily become deaf. With Alric’s sudden interest in her, Claire clarified, “Me?” Her tone quickly adjusted to a more timid one. “Well, I am an actress, and in fact, I am about to star in one of the biggest films in the industry! The movie is called The Zombie Lives.” “Ah,” Alric remarked, his expression utterly dull. “Zombie, a role so fitting.”

She frowned, as if she didn’t believe with what I said. “F-ck. It looks like you’re right. I looked at the CCTV. I got the night we had the encounter with Young’s men, and the other CCTV angle before you blew up their car,” said Claire, holding her chin and looking at me. “Someone really wants to kill you. Damn it. Your cousins need to know!” Claire stood up, but I pulled her back down.

He stared at her for a while, then finally leaned away from the wall, unfolded his arms at that moment, turned around and then walked out through the door he had been standing in front of. Theresa turned her head in time to see two maidens who were likely to be in her age range approaching her but Claire was a winter older than she was. She was nineteen. Claire stopped before her, with a cold and haughty look on her face. "Don't feel so welcomed yet, nymph. People get clumsy and accidentally fall off cliffs or lose their way and accidentally end up trapped in trolls’ caves, you know?" She angrily hissed and stalked past Theresa, deliberately brushing her with her shoulder which made Theresa

Margot settled back comfortably against her pillows. “If Hart Sullivan is focusing on me, then he’s stopped focusing on Claire.” My stomach dropped. Immediately. “No.” Claire and I spoke at the same time. Margot shrugged. “It’s true.” “No.” Claire took a step closer to the screen. “You don’t get to decide that.” Margot’s expression softened. “I do, actually.” “Margot—” “I’m fifty-three years old.” The room went silent. The kind of silence nobody ever tried to fill.

Claire…my half-sister, the one who confessed everything to me months ago, who described in vivid detail how Uncle Daniel bent her over his desk while his wife hosted book club downstairs… now claiming victimhood? Claire mets my eyes—pleading. “I didn’t know he was filming at first,” she whispered. “Then… I did. And I kept going. Because I liked it. The risk. The power. But when Victoria found out tonight… when she saw the videos, she flipped. Said I seduced him. Said I ruined her marriage. Now she’s telling the police I was underage when it started. I wasn’t. I was twenty-two. But she’s lying. And they’re believing her.”

"We have the evidence, we have your account, we have Delia's account. We post it ourselves. Every platform, simultaneously, this morning, before Roland has time to call anyone." I looked at him. "Just like that." "Just like that," he said. He said it the same way he said most things, quietly and completely, like the decision was already made and the only remaining question was the timing. I thought about it for a moment. Then I said, "Alright. Let us do it." Clara Holt arrived at the estate at eight. She was in the dining room with Damien and his communications team by eight fifteen, building the statement with the focused speed of someone who had been in enough rooms like this to know exact

She sat down on the other end. They looked at each other for a long moment. The garden was quiet. The December cold was honest and clear, the kind that didn't pretend. "Five years," Claire said. "Yes," her mother said. Her mother's voice. The sound of it landed somewhere deep and unguarded that Claire had not been aware was still accessible — the part of her that was younger than twenty-eight, younger than the first life, younger than the cell and the wedding dress and all the things that had shaped her. The part that had sat at a kitchen table doing homework while Diane Hayes moved around the stove and the radio played and the world was simple.

Maybe next time. Underneath Mom’s name was a short biography. ~ Claire Hastings, a healer from the Bloodrose pack, daughter of alumni, Alpha Stewart. She is a top student of the Healer’s Division, and known for her dedication to her craft. Claire is a proud member of the first elite team this school has ever put together with, James Rochwall (C), Claire Hastings, Greg Loren, Jane East, Elyx Lythoria———~ I squinted my eyes, trying to read the two remaining names—but they were crossed out. That was strange.