Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara had this uncanny ability. One second, she'd sweep you up to cloud nine; the next, you'd crash straight to rock bottom. It all depended on her mood.

He lowered his gaze, lashes casting shadows on his cheek. His hand, resting beside him, was stiff-fingers curling in, then relaxing, like he was fighting off something only he could feel.

The car turned around, retracing the route they'd just driven. Outside, the rain hammered down harder, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. He hated rain. Always had.

Aiden was driving, stealing nervous glances at the rearview mirror. He was worried his boss might sneak another pill. He couldn't help but speak up, “Sir, maybe if you just told your wife about the Westhill plot..."

Maybe she'd finally let her guard down.

Dylan's fingers shook as he reached for the pill bottle, but Aiden's voice cut through from the front.

"You can't keep taking those. After last time, when you passed out for days—the side effects were serious. The doctor told me to keep a close eye on you. If you keep pushing yourself like this... what are we supposed to do?"

Dylan's hand froze. He gritted his teeth and tried to ride out the pain.noveldrama

"I'm done hoping for miracles. If I die, just tell her everything. Let her come after me if she wants—at least I won't be around to answer for it."

Aiden wanted to keep trying, find the right words, but nothing he could say would matter half as much as a single word from Clara. So what was the point?

When the car stopped at Palm Bay, Aiden was about to hop out first, ready to grab an umbrella for Dylan, but before he could even open his door, he heard the trunk slam.

Dylan was already out there, walking into the rain.

It was just a few steps to the house, but tonight's storm felt relentless, like it was out to make things as hard as possible.

Aiden rushed after him. "Sir, your leg-"

Even though the injury was supposedly healed, there were still things that needed looking after. It wasn't that long ago that he'd almost lost that leg for good.

Now, Dylan acted like everything was fine, but Aiden remembered those brutal months abroad, the endless rehab. None of it had been easy. Dylan just never talked about it. Maybe he thought he deserved it, that it was some kind of punishment.

But after coming back, why did his wife have to lose her memory? Why give him hope only to snatch it away again?

It was always like this. Like one of those fish left flopping on the ground at a market—almost dead, until someone splashes a little water on it, pretending that'll be enough to keep it alive.

Aiden had never really liked Clara. Well, maybe not "disliked," but he just couldn't see what made her so special. The boss always said she was different, but besides her looks and those fighting skills, what was so different about her?

He just didn't get it. Still, he hurried to catch up.

Dylan had already made it back to the master bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Aiden knocked softly at the door. “Tomorrow morning we have to go to the Ferguson estate. The party starts at six sharp. The Chester family from North America will be there.”

They'd never had much to do with the Chesters, but lately, the Chesters were putting out feelers about expanding their business into Country Z.

All the major deals in Country Z had already been split up. If the Chesters wanted in, they'd need a partner.

The overseas Fergusons and the

Chesters had always had a

complicated relationship, each side waiting for the other to make the first move. The fact that the

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Chesters were coming here in person made it clear they wanted to build some kind of alliance.

The elders abroad all had their eyes on Dylan. If he was willing to go overseas, the top spot would be his for the taking. But ever since the car accident two years ago, Dylan had used his recovery as an excuse to turn them down.

Aiden had his theories, though he never dared say them out loud. He suspected the Fergusons and the Chesters were planning a marriage alliance. Everyone in the North American circles knew the Chester heiress was spoiled and adored-if she was going to marry, it'd only be to someone at the very top.