Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

She let him into the car, then leaned over to buckle his seatbelt.

There were a million things she wanted to ask, but every question seemed to have the same answer: He liked her. That was it. She'd known it for a while now. Asking again would just feel pointless, or maybe even a little dramatic.

The Dylan she used to know always seemed so distant-out of reach, above it all, as if nothing could ever touch him. She'd always wondered what he'd be like if he actually fell for someone. Would he stay as cool as ever, or would he get flustered and awkward like any other guy in love?

But nope. Turns out, when Dylan liked someone, he just kept it all in—quiet, patient, almost painfully gentle. It made it impossible to push him away. Saying anything harsh to him felt like a crime.

Just like Z, she thought.

She lowered her eyes, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

When they got to Palm Bay, someone was already waiting for them by the gates of the old estate-it was the butler. He'd come to tell Dylan that he needed to be at the manor first thing in the morning to help with all the arrangements for Mrs. Ferguson's funeral.

Clara saw Dylan sitting in the passenger seat, silent, while the butler stood outside acting all official. It made her blood boil.

She clenched the steering wheel and snapped, "Are you finished?"

The butler looked taken aback, obviously not expecting her to talk to him like that.

She stared right at him through the window. "How far does Mr. Ferguson plan on pushing him? Is he really so set on making us get a divorce and forcing Dylan to do whatever he wants?"

The word "divorce" seemed to hit a nerve.

Dylan turned his head to look at her.

Clara leaned forward, locking eyes with the butler. "Whatever tricks Mr. Ferguson has left, let him use them. The more he tries to tear us apart, the more I'll stay by Dylan's side."

The butler's face tightened, but he kept that fake, polite smile. After all, he was on Mr. Ferguson's side.noveldrama

"Ms. Clara, you might be speaking a little too soon. Your feelings for the young master aren't as deep as you think."

"Is that so? Well, if you're done, you can go report back to Mr. Ferguson now."

The butler was used to respect. He'd practically raised Dylan, and none of the Ferguson kids ever talked back to him-let alone someone from outside the family like Clara.

His face darkened. He glanced at Dylan, who still hadn't said a word, and finally just said, "Young master, please be at the estate early tomorrow."

Then he left.

Clara felt even more upset. Mrs. Ferguson had been right-Dylan was just a pawn for Mr. Ferguson, nothing more.

She felt suffocated, and honestly, she didn't even know why she cared so much. This was the Ferguson's' drama; technically, it had nothing to do with her.

Suddenly, Dylan's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Are you mad?"

He sounded so calm, like none of it bothered him at all.

Clara's anger flared up again. Everyone was already treating him like dirt, and he still didn't seem to get it.

She opened his door, took a deep breath, and gently took the can from his hand. "Come on, let's go up."

She reached out to help him.

He took her hand, got out, and she caught the faintest smile on his lips.

Upstairs, she was so worked up she couldn't even eat. Then a housekeeper knocked on the

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"Sir, ma'am, would you like dinner

now?" ne

Clara swallowed her anger for

Sake. She worried about his

and forced herself to say, "Let's eat first."

She barely tasted a thing. Watching someone as proud as Dylan get pushed

around by his own family made her furious.

She put down her fork, only to notice that there was an extra piece of meat in her bowl.

"Don't be upset," Dylan said quietly.

He pressed his lips together, then slid her a glass of juice. “Drink some.”

Clara honestly admired him. How could he just sit there so calm after everything he'd just learned?

Or maybe... he was just used to being treated this way.

The thought made her chest ache.