//CLARA//
I felt like I was floating. Not the light, airy kind of floating you feel after a glass of expensive champagne, but the kind where the tether between your body and your mind has snapped, and you're just… adrift.
The streets of New York were a blur, and I couldn't focus on a single face. I didn't want to go back to the mansion and see Casimir. I didn't want to see Gary either.
What would I even say?
Hey, cousin, good news! The body you're inhabiting owes a large fortune to some very scary people and also witnessed a murder. Oh, and the man I'm in love with might be connected to the syndicate hunting you. Sleep well!
No. He'd have a meltdown, and I simply didn't have the emotional bandwidth for a Gilded Age tantrum.
Instead, I found myself at the factory. Smoke curled from the chimneys. The hum of the machinery was the only thing that felt real.
Oliver's face lit up when he saw me.
