Clarissa Lawson Novels & Stories

It seems like her smile was like a soothing relief in my heart. I picked up my pen as I began to mark names and things that looked useful, Every connection I drew only revealed two more I hadn’t seen before. Blackwell’s mess was deeper than anyone wanted to admit, and someone inside that company had gone to great lengths to bury the truth. Clarissa’s name sat in the center of it all not because she was guilty, but because someone wanted the world to think she was and it was obvious who the person was. I rubbed my eyes, already feeling the exhaustion behind them. Another night without sleep. Another night of trying to stitch together a story someone else had intentionally shredded. The door o

FREDA. I hadn’t slept a wink. I hardly even slept anymore but the sight of my assistant standing hesitantly at the door of my study told me that this update, whatever it was going to be, was not routine. I dismissed the woman with a nod and unfolded the document herself. It was neatly typed, just as I liked it, but the content made me pause. “Clarissa’s legal campaign has gained momentum,” the report read. “The lawyer she hired is effective and the new evidence looks solid. The court may rule in Devan’s favor.”

"So this is the upbringing of Mrs. Johansen. How uncouth." Clarissa's eyes widened as she glared at the woman. No one had asked her to speak, yet she insisted on opening her mouth anyway. The woman was Giselle Laurent. She had always despised homewreckers. She looked at the crowd and spoke loudly, "Clarissa rose to her position as a mistress herself. I know her, and I also know Ms. Lodge standing here. "Clarissa is the real third party. There's something wrong with her. Instead of living her life with her husband, she keeps targeting Seraphine and humiliating her."

So far, no one came forward to hold us accountable. “You got lucky, you bastard,” I shouted over my shoulder as I poured myself another glass of whiskey. “So, until I get Cello Clare here, tell me how we’re doing on the other deal? Clarissa what?” “Clarissa Ward. Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of her, but you can look her up on the internet to see what she looks like.” I didn’t wait for another invitation and opened my laptop. The moment I associated her name with a face, I was simply speechless. She looked so familiar. Those eyes. No, it wasn’t possible. This woman is a high-class journalist, and that was an art enchantment.

Nothing was going to interrupt her bubble bath—not even Stefan. Seeing her run and lock the door, Stefan couldn’t help but smirk. “Thought so,” he said to himself, shaking his head. — At the Holmes residence, Clarissa admired the bunch of women the butler brought for the maid interview. They were just what she had requested—old and ugly. One woman looked slightly less ugly, and Clarissa frowned. “How old are you?” she asked the woman. “I’m 35, ma’am,” the maid replied respectfully. Clarissa twitched her lips. “Are you an illiterate?” she asked, stretching her hand out. A woman beside her immediately handed her a flyer.

He hadn't even see Lucas mate since she arrive in the pack. " Come by in the night, I will introduce you to her" Lucas said and turned to look at Ariel who is already sleeping peacefully on the bed like a baby. " Alright, I will come around " Athonio replied and the mind link was broken. Somewhere in the pack, Clarissa Sat on her bed thinking about what Hera told her earlier. Earlier today when Hera runs away after seeing Lucas approaching the window, she hurriedly went to look for Clarissa. Clarissa is an alpha in Alusca pack. She is 25 years old and alpha Lucas chosen mate by his mother last full moon. Everyone believes she will be the Luna and her expectations are very high.

After Nanako had left, Charlie gave Porter the order to take Clarissa, who had handed the contraband over to Elaine, back to New York. Clarissa’s real name was Clara Holt. In recent years, she had been working as Martha’s underling. Her main task was to pose as a businesswoman with the false identity of Clarissa Zinn and hand contraband goods that needed to be brought out of the country over to the mules chosen by Martha. Although this woman had never killed anyone with her own hands, she had aided the evildoers and harmed many innocent victims when working as Martha’s underling. She should also be put to death for this crime, according to reason.

“But Mrs. Stephens, please try to be understanding, too. Miss Lawson grew up poor in a remote mountain village and relied on student loans to get through college. She was assigned to our school after graduation, and she still hasn’t paid off her loans. She’s only worked here for six months. She’s young and inexperienced and said the wrong thing in a moment of poor judgment. She didn’t mean any real harm.” I frowned and cut him off. “Mr. Walsh, what does any of that have to do with her spreading filthy rumors to humiliate Claire? Since when does a hard life justify my fifteen-year-old daughter being put through this?” Herbert waved his hands frantically. He looked even more conflicted.

She couldn't be allowed any blemish that would harm Junior. And besides, if Clarissa got dragged into a criminal case now—if her name surfaced in the media in connection with the investigation into Walsh's death—it would create a commotion that would draw attention. Clarissa was currently living at the Blackwood residence. Any attention at all would affect the effort to bring Alina home. Adrian Lawson and the welfare review team could easily use any commotion to hold up Alina's homecoming. An active criminal investigation involving the Blackwood family—that was the perfect excuse for the court to delay everything.

“And do you think the future Luna needs permission to visit a blind traitor?” They exchanged glances before reluctantly stepping aside. The door creaked open, revealing a dim, musty room with rough stone walls. Chains clinked softly from inside. Clarissa sat cross-legged on the floor, her once-lustrous hair matted and tangled. Her eyes, milky and clouded, stared blankly ahead. She was pale, thinner. Yet something about her still radiated quiet strength. She tilted her head. “Helen.” Her voice was calm. Too calm.