Gildarts Clive Novels & Stories

“So, for starters you are no longer Abigail” Whiz had produced a thick manilla envelope from a pocket in the side of his chair. He opened it and pulled out a new identification card that had my picture and most of the details were correct, but now I had a new name. “Clara is on her way over here she is going to give you a new hairstyle as well. Most of your background information does not need to change. I find that if I can stick as close to the truth as possible people have a better time absorbing and becoming their new selves.” I don’t know if Whiz could see that I was getting overwhelmed, but he reached over and patted my hand in reassurance. Once I nodded that I was ok he continued.

Immediately, Lorian let out a cold laugh, flicking his fingers. A wave of purification power shot forward. It stripped the silver poison from their claws and forced it back into their bodies through their wounds. "AAAH—!!" The three royal heirs crashed heavily to the ground, screaming in agony as the silver poison backfired through their bodies. Camilla, who had pinned all her hopes on them, went deathly pale. Her last illusion was shattered completely. She turned and tried to run, but Cael grabbed her instantly and threw her back at my feet.

Between the second and third acts of "The Merchant of Venice" there was a knock on Gloria's dressing room door. It was Clive. "You're late," she commented dryly. "How, if we didn't have anything scheduled?" At least I don't remember. She sent the maid out and stared at herself in the mirror, carefully touching up her makeup. "I just came to give you some news," said Clive. “I'll leave the Company when the festival is over and I'll stay in Hong Kong.

“Take off your nightgown, Mrs. Claire. Now.” His voice was pure command, and I obeyed. Fingers fumbled with the straps, sliding them down my arms. The lace pooled at my waist, baring my breasts to the cool air. “Wet those fingers,” he said, breath hitching. I brought two fingers to my mouth, sucked them slow, tasting myself. “Good, Mrs. Claire. That’s it. Suck on them.” I did, a frustrated whimper escaping as I took them deeper. “Deeper. Choke on them.”

Others were stoned. Clive shook his head. He didn't know the benefit of this trip. It had just been a wasted of his time,though it had been an eye opener as well. How was he ever going to look at his wife without these images flicking through his mind? He might not have seen Eleanor but could he be sure she had not seen him? If the Alpha was a part of this sex orgy masked as a party, and Clive had no doubt that he was,then sheust be somewhere very private serving the Alpha and being serviced by him and perhaps a host of other prominent men.

“The day I walked back to my room alone in the hospital, Clive came by and warned me to stay away from Aretha, he had heard about the Aren madness.” “Clive? You mean Clive Hawthorne? That seems like a classic Dad behavior though, right? Or is there more to this story?” “Clive is not a man you want to mess with in the underworld. He’s the only person who isn’t actively playing in the dark side and constantly gets away with it. A threat from Clive is like getting a letter from the devil.”

"Forgive my rudeness, Miss, but may I look at the piece around your neck more closely?" Claire’s steps halted instantly. A middle-aged man with silver-rimmed glasses and a perfectly tailored tuxedo blocked her path. He was Mr. Sterling, a renowned art curator and jewelry expert whose reputation extended all the way to Europe. He was a guest of honor deliberately invited by Silas to add prestige to Natalie’s faltering engagement party. Claire turned to Julian anxiously, but her husband stood calmly with a glass of champagne in his hand. "Go right ahead, Mr. Sterling. My wife doesn’t mind if you just want to look," Julian said in a relaxed tone.

He dared not say that he reigned at the top, but he could definitely squeeze into the first-class circle. How many people dared to talk to him like how Philip was now? He was courting death! “Sorry, I don’t know.” Philip shook his head. He really did not know these Tom, Dick, and Harry. So what if they had a few stinking money? “My name is Clifford Gold! The Gold family of Uppercreek!” Clifford shouted each word with emphasis. As soon as Clifford said this, Philip's expression turned awkward. He really had not heard of the Gold family in Uppercreek. Were they amazing?

Clyve didn’t miss to capture the kids playing, swinging their legs into the water. “How about you? Other than your full name, your brother Skip is the CEO of the Linton Empire, and his girlfriend has recently launched a new fragrance.” “Not bad, Westley. You googled me, and I’m so touched.” “You can’t fool me with your accent, mate. Italian and Spanish are way sexier than Brit. So drop it, and tell me about yourself already, Clyve Clifford Linton of the United Kingdom.” “You know my full name because I told you.”

CLAIRE Four years had passed since my world had shattered. Claire Darlington—the woman who had been humiliated, betrayed, and discarded—was gone. In her place stood Clara Everson, CEO of Erebos Pharmaceutical. Sharp, focused, unyielding. Every scar, every sleepless night, every moment of pain had carved her into someone who could survive… and even thrive. My company had grown from a modest lab into a powerhouse, and every achievement reminded me that I could exist on my own terms. That I could command my life, and no one could take that away.