Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The moment Clara thought of Dylan, a coldness swept through her. Was the old man really planning to lock Dylan up now? Or did he have some other cruel plan in mind?

Her thoughts were a mess. She'd meant to head back to Palm Bay—at least there, everyone was on Dylan's side, and she'd feel safe.

But she didn't. Instead, she told Charles to stop the car in a quiet area.

She called Richard.

If anyone could help her now, it was him.

Richard had always genuinely supported her and Dylan. And with the Warren and Ferguson families so closely connected, he was the only one who might be able to get close to Dylan right now.

Richard was already at the gates of the Ferguson estate. When Clara's call came through, his face was unreadable.

She spoke quickly, her voice tight with worry. "Richard, can you help me?"

He stood by his car, eyes fixed on the old mansion. "Do you really love Dylan?"

Clara didn't get why he kept asking. "I..."

She didn't get to finish—he interrupted, "If you can't even figure out how you feel, what's the point of me going in? If I know the old man, he'll do whatever it takes to make Dylan forget you. That way, Dylan can go back to being the all-powerful CEO everyone expects. Maybe he'll even be shipped off overseas to fight for the top spot. Clara, if you don't love him, maybe the life his grandfather planned is what's best for him."

Clara went quiet. She knew he was right.

If Dylan had never gotten involved with her, his life would be perfect-admired, envied by everyone.

They were never supposed to have anything to do with each other.

But then she remembered last night-the way the wind played with Dylan's hair, the warmth in his eyes.

Being the heir was impressive, sure, but was that really what Dylan wanted?

Maybe what he really wanted most was just... her.

That thought made her bite her lip. "I love him. At least, right now, I do. It's just..."

She hesitated. There was Z to think about. If she said she'd go to any lengths for Dylan, what about Z? Where did that leave him?

It made her feel like she was some heartless girl, torn between two guys.

But did she really feel nothing for Dylan? That wasn't possible. If she didn't care, she wouldn't be so worried about him.

Before she could say more, Richard spoke up again. “That's enough. Loving him, even if it's complicated, is enough. It'll make Dylan happy. I'll go check on him for you."

Clara let out a shaky breath, her eyes stinging. "Thank you. I'll wait here. If he's okay, can you call me?"

Richard listened to her quiet breathing on the line. After a long pause, he finally said, "Okay."

The Ferguson estate was crowded. Mrs. Ferguson's passing was a big deal- everyone who was anyone had come to pay their respects.

Richard walked through the entryway, seeing familiar faces everywhere.

But Dylan was nowhere to be found. Richard stopped a passing Simon. "Where's Dylan?"

Simon's smug grin said it all.

"Practically dead. Here to save him?

You're too late. Guess Grandpa

never cared about him as much as everyone thought, huh?"

This was clearly the best day Simon had had in a long time.

He barely went through the motions of the day before sneaking out to find Clara.

He had no idea where Grandpa's men had taken her.

He needed to find Clara before Dylan woke up, take her to another city, and start over somewhere no one would find them.

Richard didn't bother with a reply and kept walking, calm and collected.

He spotted Walter, the old man, but he was surrounded by other elders. Not the right time.

Richard scanned the hall, then headed upstairs.

Dylan had to be locked away somewhere in the house.

Upstairs, a few guards stood outside one of the rooms. When they saw Richard coming, they nodded. "Mr. Colton."noveldrama

"Is Dylan inside? I heard he's not taking it well."

"Yes, sir. The young master's resting. He's not seeing anyone today."

"Alright. Thanks."

Richard turned as if to leave, and the guards relaxed. In one swift move, he spun around, knocking one out with a kick and dropping another with a clean chop to the neck. He caught them before they hit the floor, lowering them gently without making a sound.