Vanessa Black Clover Novels & Stories

They kissed with abandon, like lovers seizing their final moments before the apocalypse. I watched the soap opera scene play out in front of me, my stomach churning. Everyone in town knew Trevin was my Achilles' heel. For him, I, the pampered heiress who never lifted a finger, awkwardly took up cooking, bending over backward to please him. I even endured the punishment from my furious granddad, all to be his bride. I poured my heart out to Trevin, never expecting to be repaid with betrayal. "Yara, are you blind? You're just standing there like a statue," Trevin snapped, his eyes brimming with annoyance.

Charlie's heartbeat was still doing its best impression of a techno drumline, and the lingering moonlight energy beneath her skin hummed like a caffeine overdose. Rivener and Adrian stood on opposite sides of the clearing, both poised, both tense, both looking at her like she'd just grown antlers. Honestly? Charlie wished she had grown antlers. That would at least be predictably weird. "This is fine," she said, mostly to herself. "Just a tiny magical meltdown. Happens to everyone, right?"

“It’s cute. It even matches your new calm vibe.” “I need calm,” Lucy said, holding it close. “Everything in his world feels like it’s moving too fast.” Vanessa pulled a red dress off a hanger. “Okay, what about something spicy for those events? You never know when he’ll ask you to show up and stand there looking all mysterious.” Lucy made a face. “No red. I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Fine. How about this?” She held up a soft black dress with long sleeves and a gentle flare at the waist.

She made her way inside the house and sneaked into the laundry room to take off her clothes. Just as she was about to remove her jumpsuit, Isabella barged into the laundry room. She needed to wash off the bloodstains on her shorts—she was on her monthly flow. Isabella furrowed her brows when she saw Vanessa. Her eyes darted from Vanessa’s black cap to her black jumpsuit and boots. That was Vanessa’s signature outfit whenever she visited Enzo. "What are you doing?" Isabella asked, giving her a suspicious look. Vanessa tried her best to smile innocently. "About to do the laundry," she muttered in a sweet voice.

She sent Ethan an article about the Higashiyama district in October, which Ethan forwarded to Valentina with one word: obvious. Valentina books Japan in March. Not the birthday — Rosa's birthday is the twentieth and Japan is in May, when the late spring light is doing what May light does in Kyoto, and the Higashiyama district is at the particular quality it has between the cherry blossoms and the summer heat. Two weeks. Valentina, Ethan, Clara, Rosa, Pep. Five people in a country that Pep knows and Valentina has been to, and Rosa has been circling for a year.

she acknowledged after taking a short sip on the drink. “Stop distracting yourself and keep your eyes open.” The lady rolled her eyes at the statement. Hyde strolled over the counter and got himself a glass of whiskey, while Adeline set herself on the table in the corner where she could have a better perspective around the hall. “Agent Black, set.” He whispered after activating the earplug hidden in his ear. “Agent White, set.” In a short while, Adaline activated her device, too.

No one met my eyes, no one dared to say a word, not even my father. Vanessa waited in the shadowed archway leading back to the hall. She wore black leather laced tight, hair pulled high, lips painted crimson. She fell into step beside me without invitation. “You’re making them fear you,” she murmured. “That’s good. Fear keeps them loyal.” I grunted. “Fear keeps them quiet. I need them talking.” She slid her hand up my arm. Nails grazed skin. “Then make them scream louder.” Inside the hall I kicked the doors shut as the bang echoed. I crossed to the map table, shoved aside empty flagons, and traced Blackthorn Peak with a blood-streaked finger.

Chloe had caught her staring more than once—lingering glances in the kitchen when Chloe reached for something on a high shelf, the way Vanessa’s tongue would dart across her lower lip when Chloe walked around in tiny sleep shorts. Today Chloe wore nothing but an oversized T-shirt and black cotton panties. She’d come downstairs for water, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower. Vanessa was at the island, slicing strawberries in a silk camisole and matching shorts, the thin fabric clinging to her nipples in the cool air. Their eyes met. Neither spoke for a long beat. Then Vanessa set the knife down. Slowly. “You’re dripping on my floor,” she said, voice low, nodding at the trail of water fr

Chapter Seventy-Two: Beneath the Surface Vanessa tapped her long, polished nails on the wooden table of the quaint café she'd chosen for her meeting with Clara. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the air, mingling with the soft hum of murmurs around her. Clara was already running five minutes behind, but Vanessa wasn't bothered. It gave her time to strategize. This wasn’t just a casual catch-up—it was a carefully crafted move to uncover the truth about Noah and Stephanie.

Her lips trembled, then hardened. “That bitch Grandma Turner never wanted me here. And now Clover is a Blackwood?” She laughed bitterly. Lying back, she stared at the ceiling. “Baby, we have to move fast. Because if we don’t… she’s going to take my spot. My legacy.” Her hand tightened around her phone. She dialed. “Hello?” a voice answered. “I just found out something that’s going to blow everything wide open,” Daisy said. “What?” “Clover is Breanna Blackwood.”