//CLARA//
A guardian marrying his ward. An orphan. A man taking advantage of a girl in his care.
My thumbs dug into the coarse paper of The New York Tribune until the dry ink smudged gray across my skin. A sickening, icy wave rolled up from my stomach, making my knees go soft.
To the hypocritical ghouls reading the morning edition over their porcelain teacups, I wasn't an ambitious survivor using every tool at my disposal.
I was just a naive, helpless girl. An orphan plucked from obscurity, isolated in a grand Hudson estate, and systematically compromised by the ruthless tycoon appointed to protect her.
"Clara."
Casimir's voice was barely a whisper, but it sounded like a crack of thunder in the quiet room.
I couldn't look up. My eyes were locked on those words. An orphan. A girl in his care. A dry, ragged breath hitched in my throat.
"Look at me," Casimir commanded softly.
