Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 145

"Try standing up on your own."

Clara slowly leaned against the wall and managed to stand up. Her leg was wrapped in bandages that were now tinged with blood. He watched the bloodstain for a moment before extending his hand toward her.

Clara carefully took his hand, whispering a soft thank you as she did. He paused in his steps, standing silent for a good half-minute before letting out a gentle sigh.

By the time Clara was back in the bedroom, her face was noticeably pale. Dylan brought in a first aid kit and gently unwrapped the bandages from her leg. The injury was on her thigh, so she had to awkwardly roll up her dress, revealing her long, fair legs. Though initially embarrassed, she noticed Dylan kept his focus on re-bandaging the wound, quickly looking away once he was done.

Clara was about to ask him something, but he turned away, setting the first aid kit aside and switching off the light. With the room plunged into darkness, she felt a mix of emotions-first his anger, then a sense of him avoiding something. Not being the most perceptive with such matters, she settled into the couch.

"Good night, Mr. Dylan."

"Hmm."

That short exchange was the last of their conversation. The room fell into silence, but outside, a storm brewed over a mysterious recording. Everyone in their social circle was obsessing over whether it was real.

Bradford family claimed Clara had faked the recording and promised she'd clear things up soon. People had always heard tales of Clara's spite and knew she wasn't fond of her sister, who'd recently

it was faked. It didn't sound like the Quinn I know. She's

caused so much trouble, and they still haven't kicked

in the business who says the recording wasn't doctored. So what's the real

we'll find out

to call Clara and urge her to admit the recording was fake, but Clara had

frustration boiled over, leading her to pressure Colton to act fast-ideally by kidnapping Clara to make her confess to

*

stayed at Palm Bay for three days

At dinner, she glanced

I need to deal with Colton. He's Quinn's lapdog, and if she cries to

"Hmm."

upset, though she couldn't be sure if it was just her imagination. The angrier he seemed, the quieter he got. His face was usually a blank slate, but Clara

but she was sure of

on edge, she poked at