Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 856

Back in the present, Nicholas was all smiles, sitting beside Scarlette as they watched a movie together.

Of course, he couldn't resist texting Richard:

[Single and bitter, huh? Admit it—you just hate seeing me this happy.]

Richard stared at the smug message, rubbing his forehead. Love really does make people stupid. Every last one of them. He shook his head and let out a short laugh. Oh well.

He was about to toss his phone aside when a notification popped up—Dylan had posted on social media.

That was rare. Dylan hardly ever posted. When he did, it was always about Clara.

This time, it was a picture of some fancy dessert on a table. If you looked closely, you could see Clara's hand in the frame, unwrapping an elegant box. It was obvious, but subtle-definitely intentional.

Still stinging from Nicholas's gloating text, Richard couldn't help but comment on Dylan's post:

-Lame.

Dylan saw the comment, but didn't bother replying. Instead, he glanced up at Clara.

She'd just finished unwrapping the dessert and set a spoon down next to his hand. “Aiden's in the hospital. You should take it easy, too," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "And with your hand like that, you're not allowed to mess around with anything else until it heals. Dylan, I've warned you enough. You have to listen to me, okay?"

If she really got mad, the consequences wouldn't be pretty.

made a low sound in agreement and picked up the spoon, eating

chin in her hand, quietly watching him for a while. Then, softly, she asked,

Dylan could answer, his phone buzzed with

half-closed. But then it buzzed again. And again. Frowning, he finally picked up his phone. The moment he read the messages, his

him and felt his entire vibe shift, as if the

"Dylan?" she called, worried.

the name out before he shot to his feet and

here to drive you, your hand's injured—where are you even going? Let me

suddenly, turning to face her, his voice rough and low. “Just wait for me. I'll be

that, he

got there, the rest of the people from Palm

her chest, a storm

after him, even though she had no

she found herself outside the old Ferguson family estate, hoping for a miracle. But she couldn't get in.

narrow alley, her phone rang—a message from an unknown number. Attached was a photo of her car. Someone was watching

empty street, and, judging the photo's angle, walked

she saw Clara, her eyes

had thought she'd

Clara's voice shook with disbelief, but she quickly

covered in scars, terrifying except for her eyes-those

The wounds looked fresh, like she'd been dragged over rocks. Megan must have suffered so