Clara Afton Novels & Stories

Clara didn't do anything after she returned to her room, she just sat on her bed and looked out the window. Clara has been very afraid of the night since what happened to her yesterday. She felt disgusted with herself. Clara was only wearing her bathrobe at that time because she didn't want to wear the lingerie that Steven had asked for. It made her look like a bitch and she didn't like that. It was getting late, but Clara was startled by the sound of a door opening behind her, it was Steven, the man she was so afraid of.

BLAKE’S POV There was something wrong. The way she moved. The way she spoke. Even the way she looked! But most importantly, the way she held the clay. Clara was angry, everyone could tell that, but what was surprising was how she held the clay in her hands that she was using to demonstrate how to burnish after molding. The sides of the almost hardened clay were beginning to crack from the pressure her palms exerted on them. All of us were deathly quiet probably to know if we could hear the bowl crack, but mostly so our heads wouldn’t be next in line.

This helped confirm the obvious: Clara was kidnapped. Since then, we've been using all the available footage to look for vehicles that match that description that could have entered that area. It's been a few hours, and we still haven't found anything useful. We are trying to look into other clues, but so far, we haven't had any progress. This person who did this must have hated her. I wouldn't doubt it if the same person orchestrated the accident. Who would want her dead that desperately? I was back at my house just outside the city; it had far more space, and I wouldn't get that much interference from work this way.

My heart began to pound, not from exertion, but from certainty. I took two steps at a time. The rooftop access door was slightly ajar, and that alone was enough to make my blood run cold. I burst through it, the night air hitting me like a physical blow, and then the world narrowed to a single, horrifying image. Clarissa. She was at the edge. No, she was past it. Her body dangled over open air, fingers clawed into the concrete lip, her arms trembling violently with the effort of holding herself there. Her face was drained of color, her eyes wide and glassy with terror. Her mouth was open, but no sound came out, like she had already screamed herself hoarse.

But as we reached the alley behind the house, strong headlights flashed, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. “Clara Laurent.” A voice smooth as silk spoke. “I've been looking for you.” Alisha's grip on my arm tightened. “Clara, run!”

Raffaele bends down to kneel near Daisy and whispers in her ear "she isn't dead" Daisy looks at Raffaele, confused, and then looks back at Penny who was covered in blood. "She is just unconscious. The blood is from the old lady she was with. I sent two men to get the girl and they had to shoot the old lady to get this little girl" says Raffaele but all Daisy heard was Penny was alive. She didn't even want to know who the old lady is or if she was alive but it was clear Raffaele was referring to penny's grandmother, Christine.

Hampstead ,UK Clara reached the hospital around 8 am. She is working as a nurse at this hospital. After Clara left the palace she has changed many cities and has survived various jobs till she found a nursing career. Nursing was best for her as she could borrow or have access to the blood bank from where she managed to get blood for Ethan.

Sharon said. "Please make sure Clara get home safe." Elsa said as Sharon and Maggie left. Clara leapt over a car and somersaulted to the left escaping the car ahead. The death Battalion with kept following her as they flew in the air. One of them threw his sickle but she docked away and it scattered the class of a building. She did a front lift and cutting the street light twisted herself self thereby grabbing it, she turned back swiftly throwing it at them but it passed through their bodies like they were invisible.

“I know it’s dangerous. I know I’m asking a lot. But if we don’t stop him now, he’ll come for us again. For Julian. Next time, we might not get him back.” That broke her. A sob escaped her throat, and she leaned into Damian’s chest. He held her tightly, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. Two Days Later – Paris, France Clara Sinclair wore black from head to toe as she slipped through the crowd at the opera house. She looked every bit the grieving heiress attending a gala in her sister’s memory. In truth, she was here for information—and redemption.

“Relax! Relax Clara…Edward is not dead…..tell me ….which year you are in?” Emily kept on screaming and trembling vigorously! “Mr Ford! That is enough. She is in pain!” Dr Erik said. “Ask her the year!” Adrian hissed as he stared at Emily with intense gaze! “Ask her!!” he yelled. “Clara, what is the year??” Dr Erik despite his reluctance asked. “It…is….it is….1910! Ahhhhh……EDWARDDDDDD!!!!!!”