Dr Bethany Clary Novels & Stories

a harsh whisper hissed from the copy alcove twenty feet away. I didn’t look up from my pinky nail, but my lips curled into a smirk. The speaker was Beatrice, a woman in her late forties whose wardrobe consisted entirely of beige pant suits and resentment. Beside her stood high-and-mighty Clara, who had been passed over for the senior executive secretary role three times in the last five years.

“Where?” “Not where. Who.” He crossed to the bed and lowered his voice. “A woman living under the name Claire Bennett checked into a women’s clinic outside New Haven six months ago. Cash payments. No digital footprint before that. Her medical history is sealed, but the intake form lists past fertility treatment trauma.” “Grace.” “Likely.” “Bring her in.” Hale’s face gave me the answer before his mouth did. “She won’t meet you.” I stared at him. He did not flinch.

"Clara, if you see something you like, just say the word. I'll buy it for you," Bethany said, holding Clara's hand with a motherly warmth Phoebe had never witnessed before. "Mom, why are you so kind to Clara but always cold and sharp with Phoebe?" Nathan asked with a sigh. "Phoebe is your daughter-in-law, and she's carrying your grandchild. Can't you treat her better?" "Because Clara doesn't stir up trouble and turn you against me like Phoebe does," Bethany snapped, her face darkening.

Grief, carefully locked behind expensive restraint. “Clara worked as a patient advocate after the trial,” Evelyn continued. “She helped women who had participated in medical studies and later realized they had never been properly informed of the risks. She was young, intelligent and far more courageous than anyone gave her credit for. Your father found her because he was investigating irregular payments made to participants in the Phoenix trial.” “My father,” I said slowly. “Yes.” The room seemed to tilt a little. I pressed my palm flat against the table, grounding myself.

“They love you.” That, they did. And talking about them eased me into the ball I was about to set into motion. Curtis had told me about Klara’s qualifications and one of them was years of practice as a shrink. He had joked about her switching to neurology so she would more literally get into people’s minds.

I sat at my desk and felt something move through my chest that was warm and complete and entirely without surprise because this was the correct outcome for Clara Bennett and correct outcomes, when they arrived, felt inevitable rather than unexpected. “Columbia,” I said. “Family law concentration,” she said. “Which I decided on definitively last week when I finished reading all of Dana Park’s published case summaries.” A pause. “She is extraordinary. Her cases are extraordinary. The work is exactly what I want to be doing.” “You will be extraordinary at it,” I said. “I know,” she said. With the specific absence of false modesty that was one of her most valuable qualities. “I wanted you to kno

0 said and continue talking about things. Wow, this is Hilary's point of view when I am talking to her? Am I always this loud and I am telling a story? "Settle, please be sitted in your assigned seats." our professor said. She is Miss Ricafronte, she's our teacher in Calculus. She doesn't give high grades at all unless you gave her high scores on the quizzes, discussion, and assignments. So basically, what you give is what she encodes.

It was exclusive, quiet, expensive in a way that screamed power. Ethan stood when we entered. He was tall, polished, with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Adrian,” he said warmly. “And you must be Clara.” My spine straightened. “I am.” He took my hand briefly. “I’ve heard so much.” “I’m sure,” I replied. His smile widened slightly. “You’re impressive. Turning down funding like that. Bold.” “Integrity isn’t bold,” I said. “It’s necessary.” He laughed softly. “I like her.”

Draco shifted, noticeably pissed. “You should have done it sooner, because Marla—your still wife—came back from her so-called ‘spiritual retreat,’” Claire said, miming air quotes with both hands. “Now she’s busy selling the image of a saint. She’s been photographed at charity galas for abused women and single mothers, and she’s even started a foundation to help divorced women get back on their feet. And whenever reporters ask about her husband, she sheds crocodile tears and insists she can’t talk.”

I'm sure if anyone can help me open myself up to something new again, it's him. When I enter the living room, Beth is sitting on the couch with Claire. "Bruce's gone home to get changed, he'll be back soon." Beth tells me when she sees me looking around, looking for Bruce. "Are you sure you don't mind? To babysit, I mean." I ask to be sure and sit next to her on the couch. "Are you crazy, I like doing it. You know that." She replied. I expected that answer, Beth adores her. And to be honest, Claire is pretty smitten with her, too.