Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Simon was practically buzzing with nerves, staring at Aaron like he was some kind of miracle worker.

Who would've thought Aaron had the inside scoop on everything?

"So, cousin, what now? Tell me what I'm supposed to do," Simon asked, voice

tight.

Aaron leaned back in his seat, eyes drifting shut. "You need to find Clara. Tell her her boyfriend's in trouble-got himself beat up, he's barely hanging on, says he wants to see her one last time."

Simon frowned, not buying it. "That's a terrible lie. She'll never believe me."

"Simon, do you even know why Clara's gone off the grid lately? You think Dylan's going to let her talk to anyone? There's no way she can get in touch with the outside world. As for her and her boyfriend-look, there are things I still need to check out myself. Just say what I told you. I'll handle the rest."

Aaron's confidence was contagious. Simon nodded, determined. "Alright. Leave it to me-I won't mess this up."

He jumped out of the car without another word, his whole posture screaming drive and determination.noveldrama

Aaron watched him go through the window, eyes cold and unreadable.

He'd only pulled Simon into this mess to take some of Dylan's heat off himself. Grandfather might let Dylan get away with a lot, but no way would he stand by while Dylan finished off every last Ferguson kid. Lincoln's fate was just bad luck.

Aaron's hand curled into a fist, jaw clenched. But after a moment, he took a breath and let the tension drain out. He called out to the driver, voice calm again. "Let's go."

Today's plans were all set. Now, it was time to see if his theory held up.

The car rolled forward, quiet and steady.

*

Clara woke up feeling genuinely rested for the first time in ages.

For a second, she just stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the fog. She could've sworn she'd fallen asleep on the couch-so why was she in bed now?

She quickly got herself together and stepped out of her room, heading straight for Dylan's master bedroom.

Empty.

She checked the study. Still no sign of him.

Clara headed downstairs, where the housekeeper was busy prepping dinner in the kitchen.

"Where's Dylan?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Mr. Ferguson left for the office after lunch," the housekeeper replied.

Clara's mood soured. She'd been trying to catch Dylan leaving the house for days, but he kept changing up his schedule, working from different rooms, making Her chase after him like some weird game of hide and seek.

Her plan was simple: the moment he left, she'd follow his car and hunt for a way out.

But Dylan had the stamina of a machine. She'd only closed her eyes for a second, and by the time she woke up, he was already gone.

Annoyed, Clara plopped down on a chair.

The housekeeper brought over a steaming mug of ginger tea. "Ma'am, please put on your slippers. Mr. Ferguson said your period is due soon-you shouldn't catch a chill."

Clara's periods were always rough. She'd tried herbal medicine for a while, but nothing made a difference.

Sometimes the pain was so bad she'd black out. She hardly ever kept track of her own cycle, but apparently Dylan did.

The housekeeper set a pair of fuzzy

slippers by her feet, all polite and

serious. Clara felt even more Clara

unsettled. She didn't want to accept this kind of care from Dylan-it ust made her more frustrated, wanting to snap at him for everything but unable to find the right moment.

The ginger tea was hot, slices of jujube floating on the surface.

The housekeeper wiped down the coffee table one more time, then nudged the

mug closer. "Please drink some, ma'am. And if you start to feel unwell, let us know right away."

Clara frowned, not in the mood for anything.

She'd just dreamed about Z-again.

It was weird. Every time she thought about running away, she told herself it was to keep Z out of trouble.

She'd even pictured sneaking back to see him once Dylan finally got over whatever grudge he was holding about Eden.

Z wasn't easy to win over, but she

remembered the promise they made: as long as she still wore the red bead bracelet, she could always coax him back. At most, he'd

make

her pay for it in bed for a few days.

She could handle that.

But she'd never dare say any of this to Dylan. He was impossible to predict-who

knew what would set him off? Around him, less was always more.

Clara never really thought about leaving Z for good. She was sure of her place in his heart—no matter what she did, she could win him back if she tried.

Maybe that made her a terrible person. But she loved that Z saved all his softness for her, letting her get away with everything.

She lowered her gaze. Every time she dreamed about him, guilt twisted inside her, leaving her anxious and aching.