Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Mrs. Ferguson took a few deep breaths, rubbing her forehead. "Forget it. I'm done

talking about you and Clara. The folks overseas keep pressing me-it's time for

you to go abroad. When are you leaving? The elders want to meet you."

"We'll talk about it later," Dylan replied, his tone flat.

Mrs. Ferguson's face darkened, her jaw clenched. "You-"

Before she could finish, footsteps sounded from upstairs.

Clara appeared, barefoot and in comfy loungewear, her hair falling softly around

her face. She looked relaxed, almost glowing.

Mrs. Ferguson tried to keep it together, but in the end, she couldn't help but snap.

"This is ridiculous! Look at yourself! Is this how you should act? If a girl like you

marries into the Ferguson family, people will laugh at us! And you, Dylan, you

want to take her overseas? Are you trying to embarrass me?"

Clara froze in place, startled by the harsh words.

She could see it clearly now-Mrs. Ferguson did not like her.

Dylan, unfazed, waved Clara over and patted the seat beside him. "Come here."

Clara glanced nervously at Mrs. Ferguson, then quietly went to sit next to Dylan.

Mrs. Ferguson's anger was barely contained; her jaw was so tight she looked like

she might break a tooth. If she hadn't been dealing with this kind of stress for

days, she might have actually passed out from rage.

"Mother, you're scaring her," Dylan said calmly.

He picked up a glass of water and held it to Clara's lips. "Didn't you want to sleep

a little longer?"

She'd barely slept last night, crying herself to sleep, and yet she was already up.

Clara gripped his arm, sneaking another look at Mrs. Ferguson, unsure if she

should say anything.

But Dylan just set the glass down and spoke gently, his tone steady and

comforting. "Don't worry about anyone else. Are you hungry?"

She nodded.

Dylan motioned for the housekeeper to bring out breakfast.

The housekeeper approached Mrs. Ferguson carefully, asking if she wanted to

join them.

Mrs. Ferguson had no appetite, but she didn't want to just leave, either. She

wanted to see what Clara would do this time.

Clara ate quietly, letting Dylan put food on her plate. Every now and then, she'd

look at him and smile.

Mrs. Ferguson sat off to the side, gripping her spoon so tightly her knuckles

turned white.

It was almost unreal-Dylan actually looked happy.

He'd barely shown any emotion for years, but right now, there was no denying it:

He was genuinely happy.

"Watching him take such care of Clara, Mrs. Ferguson finally burst out, "What, she

doesn't have hands? She can't serve herself?"

Dylan didn't respond. He just turned to Clara. "Clara."

"Yeah?" she replied softly.

He tapped the corner of his mouth.

Clara immediately understood, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. "Thank you,

honey."

He lowered his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Mm."

Mrs. Ferguson's spoon fell to the floor with a clatter.

That was it. She couldn't sit there any longer. She got up and left.

Even after she got in the car, she couldn't calm down.

Her phone rang. It was Tara.

She let out a deep sigh. "Tara, Clara's been found. Dylan's watching her closely

now. I don't want to push him anymore. Let's just see what happens."

Tara's grip tightened on her phone. Clara's been found? Didn't her uncle say

everything would go smoothly? How did this happen...

But she quickly covered it up. "I'm glad she's safe. Honestly, I was just worried

about Dylan. Is he doing any better?"

Mrs. Ferguson thought back to what

she'd just witnessed, feeling a

strange mix of emotions. "He's

better. He's completely different with

Clara. I've never seen him like that.

Maybe I never should've come back

at all. Maybe he knows what he's

doing. As long as he stays obedient

with other things, that's enough for

me."

Tara forced a polite smile, her voice sounding sweet but cold. "As long as he's

okay. Mrs. Ferguson, take care of yourself."

Mrs. Ferguson sighed and hung up, only for her phone to ring again-this time, it

was Walter.

Her face went cold. She ignored the call and drove straight to the old family

house.

When she entered the study, Walter was practicing calligraphy.

He looked up. "How's Dylan?"

"He found Clara," Mrs. Ferguson replied.

Walter's brush paused. "The people overseas won't allow him to be with Clara. If

The wants that position, his fiancée has to be chosen very carefully."

Mrs. Ferguson sat down, her chest tight with frustration. "Tara's a good match, but

Dylan just doesn't care for her."

Walter hung his calligraphy paper on

the rack. "You like Tara, but her

family background isn't strong

enough. Overseas, they'll probably

want him to marry into the Chester

family. Tara's well-mannered, but

she's an orphan now-just you left.noveldrama

You've let that girl fool you all these

years. You can't see the bigger

picture-typical soft-heartedness."

Mrs. Ferguson, who was always so

strong, suddenly felt humiliated.

"Walter, I'm doing this for the

family's reputation. Dylan has to get

that position. I just can't stand Clara.

If people abroad find out she's my

daughter-in-law, I'll be a

laughingstock."

Walter turned, picking up his brush again. "Let Tara handle it. Don't get involved,

or Dylan will resent you."

Didn't Tara have an uncle? That man's methods were anything but clean.

Mrs. Ferguson sighed, a worried look in her eyes. "But Dylan and Clara..."

"That's why I say you're too soft. She's just a woman. If something happens to

her, send Dylan abroad for a while. There are plenty of ways to make him forget."

A sense of unease crept in, but she couldn't find the words to protest.