Clara Valac 소설 & 이야기

Without a hint of hesitation and my face reflecting their dead hearts, I say. “I – Valerie Carson – the only heir to the Carson throne, challenge Valak Carson for his title!” The second those magical words pass my lips - all hell breaks loose. Not even the Gods can interfere now.

I shook her hand hesitantly with the polites smile I could find, but I looked so nervous right now as I sat there staring up at her face. Zola Clair, daughter of Marcel Clair, we used to be great friends when we were kids but she moved away for boarding school, we saw her a few times after that and we also worked alongside her. She and I were friends before I met Mira, we all became friends after that, she had a crush on Josh for the most part of our childhood together, that was until she left. How in the world did Emilio even come across to meeting her let alone to date her?.

And the pay was kinda okay. Clara no longer bothers with the situation on how she will find food and shelter for herself as she sleeps in the hotel after closing then eats some of the leftover food which customers request her to Trash away. She couldn't go back to Jane, her best friend or Donovan Because she knew that history will definitely repeat itself, and she doesn't want such a thing to happen.

She thought I was nothing. Jane—no, Talia—smirked from the steps, admiring the execution. “Well,” Chloe said, looking over the crowd with supreme confidence. “I’ve shown my bloodline’s worth. Does anyone else from the lower territories want to come up and test their hand against the high script?” The room remained silent. Chloe’s eyes didn't leave my face. “Dr. Mercer? Why don't you show us what the West Coast wolves are made of?”

says Clara in a voice that does not tremble, that does not waver, that does not judge, a voice that has learned to feel nothing in the face of what I do, in the face of what I am becoming, in the face of this ice queen whom everyone fears, whom everyone admires, whom everyone perhaps hates, but whom no one can stop, whom no one can reach, whom no one can touch, except him, except Marcus, except this man who lives in the little house at the bottom of my garden and who looks at me with eyes that do not judge, that do not fear, that do not destroy, eyes that love, simply, deeply, stubbornly, and whom I flee, whom I flee as I flee everything that could do me good, everything that could heal me,

Suddenly, another slap landed hard on Valeria’s cheek, snapping her head to the side. “What are you smiling at?” Clara barked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to look up. Valeria met her green eyes and smiled. Clara frowned, ready to slap her again, but Alexa stepped in. “That’s enough. You can have your fun later,” Alexa said flatly, pulling Clara back. And that’s when Valeria started to notice something. Clara had called someone “Alice,” but in this room, there was only Veronica and Alexa. So who the hell was Alice?

My lips curve against Lucas's chest. Misunderstanding? She’s calling Valerie a liar in front of everyone. “That’s not very fair, Clara,” Hunter is beginning to look angry. “I saw with my own eyes what-“ “No, you didn’t,” Clara corrects him, sternly. Hunter may be her Alpha but she is one of the dominant maternal females. “You walked in on the two of them but you didn’t see Sarah harming Valerie. No one did. I simply cannot believe Sarah to be capable of this.”

The sky was still dull, but a chill had entered the air—a herald, maybe, of something irreversible. Cameras lined the pavement, journalists elbowing for position, microphones angled like weapons. A hum of anticipation rippled through the crowd as they recognized her. Clara Vale. The fallen heiress. The daughter of tragedy. The woman who refused to stay buried. Her heels clicked against the stone steps, deliberate and firm. Avi and Kevin flanked her like shadows, and Veronica spoke urgently into a headset behind them, confirming Charlotte’s arrival. “Sound check in five,” one of the press staff called out.