Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Mrs. Ferguson almost fainted on the spot, clutching at the nearest person and

desperately asking what had happened.

A maid passing by, seeing her panic, quickly tried to explain. "Ms. Clara liked that

tree before she left, so the young master had it dug up for her."

Unbelievable.

Mrs. Ferguson's face went chalk white, and she collapsed right then and there.

She was convinced now-Clara had come to curse the Ferguson family. Of all

things, she'd had to take the family's lucky tree. Maybe Clara really was their bad

luck charm, just like those ill-fated stars people whispered about, destined to bring

trouble wherever she went.

Meanwhile, Clara was totally oblivious to the chaos she'd caused. When she got

back to Palm Bay, she asked someone to plant the tree just outside her floor-to-

ceiling windows.

The roots had barely settled when the butler called Dylan, sounding frantic.

"Young Master, Mrs. Ferguson just fainted."

Dylan frowned. Wasn't she fine just a little while ago? How did things go south so

quickly?

"Did someone upset her?"

The butler wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Ms. Clara took the tree Mrs.

Ferguson brought back from the temple. It meant a lot to her. She got too worked

up and passed out."

Dylan paused, his gaze shifting to Clara.

She was standing under the newly planted tree, gently touching its leaves. The

green jade bracelet on her wrist caught the light, perfectly matching the fresh

leaves.

She looked stunning.

The butler was still talking on the phone, growing more anxious with Dylan's

silence. "Young Master, maybe we should just-"

"Clara likes it. Find another one just like it and put it back for Mrs. Ferguson."

The butler's face changed. That tree was one of a kind-where was he supposednoveldrama

to find another?

"But-"

He didn't get to finish. Clara called out from under the tree, "Honey, is it okay if we

keep it right here?"

Dylan didn't bother replying to the butler he just hung up and walked over to

Clara, his voice soft. "If you like it, that's all that matters."

The next three days were a whirlwind. Dylan was busy nonstop, handling the

birthday party preparations. Clara only caught glimpses of him when she was half-

asleep at night.

Then, on the eve of the party, a heavy rainstorm hit the city.

Clara felt strangely unsettled. The main hall at Palm Bay was full of people-

planners, staff, strangers-finalizing every last detail for the party.

She stood upstairs, looking down at the crowd. She didn't know any of them and

didn't feel like going down to mingle.

When it was finally time for bed, she took a long soak in the tub, then slipped

under the covers.

In the middle of the night, a loud

clap of thunder woke her. She

reached for the other side of the

bed-empty. Dylan still wasn't back.

She pulled her robe tighter and stepped quietly into the hallway.

The house was silent except for a faint glow coming from the study.

She was about to call out, Honey,

aren't you coming to bed?-but then

she heard his voice through the

door. It wasn't the warm, gentle

Dylan she was used to. This voice

was cold, detached.

"I always wanted him gone. The more thoroughly he disappears, the better."

Aiden was with him, sounding worried. "But-"

Dylan lowered his eyes, pushing a file aside. "A person like that, with a fate like

his, doesn't deserve Clara."

Let him disappear into darkness, then.

Clara pressed her fingertips against the door, holding her breath, making no

sound.

A sharp pain shot through her chest. She felt suffocated, like she couldn't breathe.

She crept back to the bedroom, bracing herself against the wall. Sweat beaded on

her forehead, her back clammy.

She couldn't sleep-so she slipped out onto the balcony to feel the rain-cooled

air.

The wind was wild, carrying the scent of rain, damp and heavy.

She tried to breathe through the ache, but it wouldn't let up.

She picked up the photo again.

Dylan was in it, she recognized him

instantly. But the other man... she

just couldn't place him. Every time

she tried to focus on his face, her

head throbbed, like it might split

open.

Who was he?

She stared at the photo, lost in thought, almost hypnotized.

Just then, the balcony door slid open and Dylan's voice broke the silence. "What

are you looking at?"

The photo slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.

She bent down to grab it, but his hand got there first.

Long, graceful fingers picked up the photo.

The storm outside seemed to fade away. In that moment, it felt like the whole

world had gone still.