Gildarts Clive Mga Nobela at Kwento

My Luna. But now, standing here, faced with the reality that Claire was not just an ordinary agent but the head of the very agency that had become my second family, a profound sense of duty washed over me. The shock gradually transformed into a fierce determination, a willpower to rescue her from Zack’s clutches, the cunning mastermind who sought to manipulate and control her for his own sinister purposes.

“I didn’t want to be remembered.” Rowan studied her. “You were someone important once.” “Depends who you ask.” “I'm asking you.” Claire met his gaze. “I was a wife to a man who never saw me. Now I’m no one. And that’s why I’m useful.” He grunted. “You think humility makes you valuable?” “I think hunger does.” --- By evening, Claire’s arms were trembling from sorting powdered lichen by weight using only a worn balance scale. Rowan leaned over. “That’s too much.”

"Clive wanted us gone. After he shipped us overseas, he stopped answering calls. He paid my tuition and nothing else. My mum and I moved flats five times in two years. I worked three jobs just to cover groceries. Every designer label I wear is fake. I couldn't even afford a bloody phone when mine broke." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Clive didn't want me back. That's why I came. Just to piss him off." He looked up. "Mirabelle... I know I say I hate Rhys, but I must have the same type as him, because I think I like you too. And I don't want to lie about it." He lunged forward and clung to my arm, full-body sobbing. I shoved him back, but he just came at me again.

"I’ll stay here. Claire, can you sit still for twenty minutes?" Claire blinked, looking up from her pill bottles. "Me? You want to draw me?" "I've drawn the oak trees three times," Evelyn said, her fingers already getting smudged with black dust as she prepped the charcoal. "And Arthur keeps looking like he’s about to give a speech to a group of bankers. Your face is more interesting today." Claire laughed, leaning her chin on her hand and striking an exaggerated, dramatic pose. "Make sure you get my good side. The London paparazzi always miss it."

"Really? That is the pathetic game you want to play with me? Denial?" "It is not a game, and I am not in denial about anything." I bent gracefully to collect the broken champagne flute, using the movement to steady my racing heart and buy precious seconds to think. "My name is Evangeline Northcrest, and I have absolutely no idea who this Seraphine person is supposed to be. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone from your past?" "Evangeline." He tasted the name slowly, like poison coating his tongue. "How incredibly creative of you. Very sophisticated. Tell me, Lady Evangeline, do you often crash parties under false pretenses and fake identities? Is this a hobby of yours?"