Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 767

She let him into the car, then leaned over to buckle his seatbelt.

There were a million things she wanted to ask, but every question seemed to have the same answer: He liked her. That was it. She'd known it for a while now. Asking again would just feel pointless, or maybe even a little dramatic.

The Dylan she used to know always seemed so distant-out of reach, above it all, as if nothing could ever touch him. She'd always wondered what he'd be like if he actually fell for someone. Would he stay as cool as ever, or would he get flustered and awkward like any other guy in love?

But nope. Turns out, when Dylan liked someone, he just kept it all in—quiet, patient, almost painfully gentle. It made it impossible to push him away. Saying anything harsh to him felt like a crime.

Just like Z, she thought.

She lowered her eyes, gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

When they got to Palm Bay, someone was already waiting for them by the gates of the old estate-it was the butler. He'd come to tell Dylan that he needed to be at the manor first thing in the morning to help with all the arrangements for Mrs. Ferguson's funeral.

Clara saw Dylan sitting in the passenger seat, silent, while the butler stood outside acting all official. It made her blood boil.

She clenched the steering wheel and snapped, "Are you finished?"

The butler looked taken aback, obviously not expecting her to talk to him like that.

She stared right at him through the window. "How far does Mr. Ferguson plan on pushing him? Is he really so set on making us get a divorce and forcing Dylan to do whatever he wants?"

The word "divorce" seemed to hit a nerve.

his head to look at

him use them. The more he tries to tear us apart, the more I'll stay by Dylan's

tightened, but he kept that fake, polite smile. After all, he was on

too soon. Your feelings for the young master aren't as

that so? Well, if you're done, you can go report

used to respect. He'd practically raised Dylan, and none of the Ferguson kids ever

face darkened. He glanced at Dylan, who still hadn't said a word, and

Then he left.

Ferguson had been right-Dylan was just a pawn for Mr. Ferguson, nothing

know why she cared so much. This was the Ferguson's' drama; technically, it had nothing to do with

broke

"Are you mad?"

like none

was already treating him

door, took a deep breath, and gently took the can from his hand. "Come on, let's

out to

took her hand, got out, and she caught the faintest smile

so worked up she couldn't even eat. Then a

né

vol.ne

would