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.

head to

tricks Mr. Ferguson has left, let him use them. The more he tries

fake, polite smile. After all, he was on Mr.

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

done, you can

and none of the Ferguson kids ever talked back to him-let alone

darkened. He glanced at Dylan, who still hadn't said a word, and finally just said, "Young master, please be at

Then he left.

Mrs. Ferguson had been right-Dylan was just a pawn

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

voice broke

"Are you mad?"

so calm, like none of it bothered him

Everyone was already treating him like dirt, and he still

door, took a deep breath, and gently took the can

out

got out, and she caught the faintest smile on

she couldn't even eat. Then a housekeeper knocked

né

vol.ne

ma'am, would