Santa Clara Remote Appearances Novels & Stories

“I’m sorry, ma'am. He called me at 6 am to…” “That wasn't so hard now, was it?” I smiled. Lachlan, that arsehole. “I'm sorry, ma'am.” Clara apologised like it was her fault when it wasn't. “It's…” I trailed my eyes forward and caught sight of something interesting. On one of the overpriced flat-screen TVs was a commercial of Cassandra advertising a beauty product. “Clara?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the screen. “Yes, ma'am?” She asked quietly.

"They think we're still digging out of the mine slot. They don't know we have their truck." "They know," Clara said from the floorboards. She was looking up at the dashboard. A small, square digital screen next to the radio frequency dials had just flashed from blue to bright orange. A single line of text was rolling across the interface: VEHICLE 09 BEACON ACTIVE. REMOTE SHUTDOWN IN SIXTY SECONDS. "They're killing the engine," I said. "Not before we hit the trees," Martha growled.

And then, she saw the Third Signature. In the corner of the room, a holographic projection flickered to life. It wasn't Julian. It was Clara. Not the "Ghost in the Machine," but a pre-recorded message Clara had left in the estate’s bedrock, a fail-safe for the daughter she knew would eventually break.

Computer devices aren't always trustworthy, in reality. Claire suddenly woke up. She had the impression that her cheek was being stroked. She struggled to look at the remote control because she turns off the lights in her room. When Claire turns on the lights, the place was ordinary in every way. Additionally, she doesn't perceive or anticipate having an intruder.

Jason smirked and squatted in front of her, while Clara did her best to avoid eye contact with him. "I'm not going to do anything to you. If I wanted to, I'd have ripped off your clothes a long time ago. I didn’t expect to see you again. California is such a small world, isn’t it?" he asked, smiling at his words. Clara said nothing. She was too scared to say something and too scared to run away. "It's a good thing to finally see you again. You were half dead the last time I saw you" he smirked.

Three days later, the news came. Clara had been found in her room. She was gone. The official cause of death was an "accidental overdose." I was in the garden trimming my roses. I didn't even pause my shears. "Ma'am," the housekeeper said carefully, "there's other news… Dante Moretti has stepped down as the heir. He's volunteered to manage the family's remote assets in Alaska. They say… he'll be gone for three years." I nodded, my focus on a perfect red bloom. It was as crimson as blood.

Clara just covers it up by spending more and more time with him, practically living in San Diego most of the time, visiting him often, staying at his house, working in his office where they basically remodeled an office near Sebastian just to accommodate her. She operates her business by connecting remotely to watch and torture her brothers. She does it in jest just so they don’t forget her, orders them around, and appears on their video feeds and monitors whenever she feels like it to test out some of her programs and spy software. Being with Sebastian had opened up her “creating” side. She doesn’t agree with calling it her “creative” side because she claims there is no creative bone in her

I pulled the phone away from my ear, tapped the speaker icon, and held it up. And then, I turned slowly back to the woman tied to the chair. And then I pulled the hood off. Clara squinted, her eyes adjusting to the light. The moment she saw me, her face showed how scared she was. “Merry Christmas, Clara,” I said softly, my smile sharpening. “Remember me?” There was a second of total silence on the line. Then Nolan’s voice burst through the speaker, sharp and confused. “What the fuck?”

I began to suspect that Golding Corp was selling Happy Capy merchandise instead. "Mel, please pour me a glass of warm water," someone said. The voice came from the lounge area. Mel? Yves sure didn't hold back when calling out to her. With a calm expression, I poured a glass of hot water and walked into the lounge. The moment he saw me, he became a little flustered. "What… What are you doing here?" "You're such a big shot that I even need an appointment to enter my own company." I sneered.

Almost on cue, the television suddenly switched tone. The same reporter from earlier appeared visibly distracted as someone off-camera handed her a phone. At first she looked confused. Then shocked. Even through the muted screen, I could see the shift happen in real time. The confidence disappeared from her face. The certainty vanished. She quickly touched the earpiece connected to her ear before turning toward the camera again. Spencer picked up the remote and unmuted the television. “—we appear to be receiving new footage regarding the alleged altercation between Clara and Florida.”