Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

After Clara lay down, she actually managed to fall asleep for once, and the strange, vivid dreams didn't come back.

When she woke up the next morning, Dylan was already gone. She got ready quietly and headed downstairs.

The rest of the Fergusons were already up, just like always.

As Clara stepped out of her room, she caught sight of the man who'd brought her that photo last night. He stood not far down the hallway, and when their eyes met, his look was pure mockery.

Simon already knew-thanks to Tara—that Clara wasn't quite herself these days. But that hadn't stopped him from handing her the photo. He figured, sooner or later, when she got her mind back, she'd finally see the truth about the man she was sharing a bed with. Besides, if he didn't give it to her now, he might never get another shot. Dylan was too good at keeping her close.

Simon strode over, smirking. "I guess you didn't listen to me at the manor that day," he said. "I told you-Dylan killed your boyfriend. That explosion out in the country? That was his doing. And yet here you are, still by his side. Guess you never really cared about your boyfriend after all. Poor guy waited for you, hoping you'd come, and instead he got killed. Clara, maybe you don't get what I'm saying right now, but just remember-you'll find something next to Dylan someday. And then you'll understand."

He kept it quick, worried Dylan might notice, and then walked away.

Clara stood there for a moment, slipping her hand into her pocket. The photo was still there. She'd planned to give it back to Simon, but as her fingers brushed the edge, a strange feeling washed over her a whisper inside, telling her these photos mattered.

Before she knew it, the hallway was empty again.

Clara stayed there, lost in thought for a while, before finally making her way downstairs.

Downstairs, the younger Fergusons were huddled together, talking about the latest gossip. No one looked her way or said hello.

to fit in. She just found a seat by

out of a nearby meeting room and spotted her, sitting alone

down the stairs, and the maid who'd

Clara, took a long breath, and said, "Dylan, let's just let this go. Clara wasn't really hurt. I'll pick a bracelet from my

Ferguson's jewelry wasn't just

he hadn't heard her, and just walked over to Clara, gently pulling

She wasn't hiding her mood at all. "I

called Palm

sweet words. For a second, his face softened

she realized she was being ignored, but she held her tongue and told the maid, "Go

all the rich wives wanted. Sometimes, no matter how much money

rarest kind was glassy and pure green-nearly impossible to find. Mrs. Ferguson had collected a few

the thought of giving one to Clara now. But she knew she had to-it was the only

a deep breath, forced a

and Dylan are

if you fall from grace, those same people will trample you. When you deal with others, you

bracelet onto

could she be giving such a beautiful bracelet to this

still resented