Clara Afton Novels & Stories

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

Once I begged for your love while our son drew his last breath. Now watch me take back everything you hold dear. The first time, I died on a rain-slicked road with my four-year-old's name on my lips and my husband's rejection still burning in my chest. Silas Vance took three years from me. Three years of existing like furniture in his mansion while he draped Clara over his arm at every gala, every interview, every moment that mattered. When our son needed him, really needed him he let my calls go to voicemail. Thirteen times. I counted. Our son didn't make it through the night. Neither did I. Then I opened my eyes. Two years earlier. Divorce papers on the nightstand. My son's laugh echoing from down the hall. This time, I won't beg. Won't wait. Won't shrink myself small enough to fit in the shadows he assigned me. This time, I'll become someone he doesn't recognize. Someone who smiles at his enemies, steals his deals, and dismantles his empire while he's still searching for his meek little wife. When he finally figures it out—when he's pounding on my door, begging for answers, desperate for a second chance? I'll hand him those signed papers and remind him: Some deaths are just the beginning.

After his fated mate died, Alpha Killian Thorne spent ten years resenting me. I was the Omega healer he never chose—bound to him by duty, not love. A substitute. A scar on a bond neither of us asked for. No matter how deeply I healed his wounds, no matter how quietly I stayed by his side, all he ever said was: “If you really want to please me, Clara… then disappear.” But when death came charging, it wasn’t I who fell. He did. Bleeding out in my arms, Killian looked at me one last time and whispered: “If only I’d never met you…” At the funeral, his mother wept. “He should’ve been with Selena. I never should’ve let him mate with you.” His father’s glare cut through me. “Killian saved you three times. Why wasn’t it you in that grave?” Everyone regretted that he had bonded with me. Even I did, too. I was cast out of the pack with nothing— No title. No Luna severance. No den to call my own. And then… perhaps the Moon Goddess took pity on me. She gave me one final chance to rewrite fate. This time, I won’t beg for his love. This time, I won’t tether him to pain. This time, I’ll sever the bond before it begins. I could already hear the gears of fate turning, and this time, I would move first.

After three grueling years of studying, I finally made it into the city agency. Then at a family banquet, I found out that my cousin, Gina Forrest—the one I'd seen at a hometown reunion—had also landed a job in the exact same unit. During the family dinner, right in front of our uncle, who happens to be a senior official, my cousin shoved a doctored confidential document into my hands. She suddenly shrieked, collapsed to the floor, and scattered the papers everywhere. "Clara! That's classified agency material! How could you sneak it out to show an outsider? Just for some lousy commission?" Our uncle slammed the table in rage, declaring he would uphold justice over family ties—have me fired on the spot and report me up the chain. Then, right in front of me, a line of on-screen text floated by. [Gina has really lost her mind. Doesn't she know the main character is the undercover inspection team leader sent specifically to investigate her?] [And look at the uncle still putting on his act. The team's car will be pulling up outside any minute.] Reading the on-screen text, I took a slow sip of tea and said to Gina, who was falling all over herself to prove her loyalty, "This document is classified, all right. But you changed the wrong part." Then I turned to my uncle and said, "And you just said you would uphold justice over family ties? Perfect. You can come back with me to the team and explain all those hiring violations over the past few years." Gina was stunned. The government system she had been killing herself to get into—I was the one in charge of evaluating her.

⚠️BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT🔞 🫧⋆｡˚ “If I were to have one more fucking chance, I’d pull you into my arms and kiss you like you’re the only light left in my wrecked soul, and love you so deeply that every shitty shadow of regret melts into forever burning in your eyes—God damn it, Lila, please let me have you again. I’d sell my soul to the devil and lay every fucking accomplishment at your feet… just don’t give that soft, sweet smile you once gave me to that worthless piece of shit.” °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Lila Danforth was never supposed to be the bride. When her identical twin sister, Clara, abandoned billionaire Elias Voss at the altar, Lila stepped in quietly, desperately, and hopelessly in love with the man her sister had thrown away. For three years she was the perfect wife, giving him everything while asking for almost nothing. Until their third anniversary. That day, Lila walked in on Elias in their bed… with Clara. Hurt by her husband’s cold indifference, her twin’s cruel betrayal, and her family’s icy dismissal, Lila finally does the one thing she never dared before. She walks away. But how could that single choice completely ruin her life even more? Did her leaving feel like such a threat to them? This left only one question burning brighter than the rest. Tell me, dear readers… After everything he and everyone around her had put her through, could Lila ever forgive them? Or would she grind them to dust?

When I opened my eyes again, I was pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window of the skyscraper by my stepbrother, Rocco. The man I had been infatuated with for a decade. He panted, his hot lips and tongue trailing along my collarbone as he murmured, "Don't go." In my past life, on the night I received my acceptance letter from London Business School, Rocco got blind drunk. Late that night, I gave in to his pleas for me to stay. I willingly gave myself to him. After a debauched night, his cherished fiancée, Clara, caught me walking out of his room the next morning, my clothes in disarray. She ran out in tears, her parting words ringing in the air, "I'll let you have each other." A month after she disappeared, the family search party found her engagement ring at the edge of a cliff. At the bottom of the cliff lay mangled remains, battered by the waves until they were unrecognizable. Rocco clutched that ring and didn't sleep all night. On the surface, he acted as if nothing had happened, even arranging a trip for me to Sicily, telling me to go and relax. The night I landed, I was kidnapped by assassins from a rival family. I screamed for him to pay the ransom, only to hear him give the order himself over the phone: "Don't make her death a quick one. The Costello princess? She's nothing but a damn liability. Torture her. Break every bone in her body. " "This is what she owes Clara." You like playing games, Rocco. But in this life, I refuse to play along.

Because my jealousy endangered his childhood sweetheart, my Alpha mate, Victor, took our son's advice. He sent me to the pack witch to have my memories erased.​ A long winter later, he woke me with the antidote.​ In the eyes of the pack, I became the perfect Luna.​ I organized the pack's winter stores flawlessly. I cataloged every last berry and pound of meat without breaking a sweat. I could even smile while delivering a blanket to Clara, Victor's precious sweetheart.​ But my Alpha and my pup, Rio, knew. I had changed.​ I no longer remembered how to soothe him on full moon nights, combing through his fur as he writhed in pain.​ When Rio fell in the snow and wailed, I calmly called for his nanny.​ Even when Victor returned late from a hunt, I offered only a cool nod. I never once reached for him through our mind-link.​ At first, he thought it was revenge. He didn't care.​ Until the night of the blizzard, when he and Rio followed me to the abandoned church. Through the thin wood of the confessional, they heard my whisper.​ "Moon Goddess, what do I do when the memories are back but the love isn't?"​ "The witch gave me back what happened, but when I look at my Alpha and my pup... they're strangers to me."​ "I feel so tense and awkward just being in the same room. What am I supposed to do?" Outside, the man and the boy just froze. They finally understood. Some things, once broken, can never be fixed.​

Living with my aunt and her family was meant to be a temporary, quiet arrangement just helping out and keeping to myself. On the first day of the new year, while everyone else was out celebrating, I stayed home, enjoying the rare silence and catching up on sleep. But when we ran out of water, I reluctantly stepped outside to fetch some, and that’s when I saw him. He stood by the gate of the house next door, effortlessly commanding attention with just a glance. A smirk played on his lips, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes behind his blue-ray glasses. At that moment, he was impossible to ignore. Meanwhile, I felt disheveled and barely awake, my hair was a mess and still shaking off sleep. But he didn’t seem to mind. There was something about him an air of mystery that made me wonder who he was and why he was there. Before I could look away, he spoke, “Hi.” Caught off guard, I managed a quick, “Hi,” while trying to pull myself together. “Can I know your name?” he asked. I hesitated but replied, “I’m Clara,” and kept walking. “Can I have your number?” he called after me. “Just as friends.” I almost refused but reluctantly agreed, entering my number into his phone. “There,” I said, handing it back. “I’ll call you,” he promised with a smile, as I turned to leave. What began as a chance encounter soon became an inexplicable connection. He had secrets, but there was something about him that saw through me, understanding things no one else did. The man I met next door wasn’t just a fleeting stranger,he became the reason I started questioning everything I thought I wanted.

In the Sinclair pack, I had always been different. Years ago, my grandfather saved the Elder’s life. To repay that debt, the Elder promised that one of his grandsons would become my mate. In my first life, on the night of the Blood Moon, he asked me, “Evelyn, who will you choose?” Blushing, I pointed to the brightest star of the tribe, Andrew Sinclair. But after our wedding, he kept me at a distance. I was confused—until one night, I opened the wrong door. Andrew was on one knee, clutching my cousin Clara’s portrait as if it were his lifeline. His body moved in a way that made my heart twist. My world collapsed. He had never loved me. His heart—his desire—had always belonged to her. Darkness swallowed me, body and soul. My husband lied to me and betrayed the oath we had sworn to the Moon Goddess. The cruel truth broke me, and sickness followed. I died with his child inside me—alone. But the moon gave me another chance. I woke again on that same night. The Elder smiled down at me. Four portraits lay before him. “Evelyn, tonight is your twenty-first rite. Who will you choose?” “You’ve always chased Andrew,” he said kindly. “It must be him—” “No!” The hall fell silent. “Grandfather… I don’t want Andrew.” In panic, I snatched a portrait. “I want him!” The boy on the page wore black. His skin was pale, his lips curved in a mad, crooked smile. William Sinclair. The sick wolf. The one everyone mocked. But I remembered how he had tried to help me find a good doctor. He was the only one who had cared about me when I was dying. And yes—this time, I chose him.

She was nobody but a lowly maid in their mansion who spent her whole life living in their pity. She had no education, no etiquette, and no qualification to be the elder daughter-in-law of the prestigious Morin family. She was just a nobody with a big mouth and an over-friendly personality. But for some unknown reason, they decided to choose her as the bride of their elder son, Roman Morin, also known as the cold and cunning CEO of the Morin Industry who detested her sole existence from the very beginning. _____________________________ _________________ "What the fuck were you doing by fighting with Clara in a room full of people? Are you fucking out of your mind? What if someone else overheard your conversations instead of me? Why are you so fucking hell bound to drag my reputation down?" Roman yelled at her angrily, making her flinch at his words. "Well if you heard our conversation then you already know who started this. So instead of yelling at me, why don't you go to her?" She spat at him angrily. "I don't fucking care who started what. All I care about is my family and my reputation. I have already warned you about this. If you again do anything that harms my image then I'm not going to play nice. Behave yourself and maintain your manner. You are no longer a maid but my wife. So stop behaving like an illiterate maid and start acting like my wife for which I paid you." Roman uttered those words like poison which caused Athena's heartburn.She bit her inside the cheek to stop her tears from falling. She must not cry. She wouldn't let words affect her. She didn't want this humiliation. She didn't want to be here. But she had no choice.