Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 898

She searched the entire second floor, refusing to stop until she found him. After

an hour, even the servants had joined in, worry etched across their faces. Finally, one of them, eyes rimmed red, spoke up softly, "Ma'am, did something really happen to Mr. Davis? We all saw the news."

Clara froze in place, everything suddenly feeling unreal, as if she were standing outside of her own life. So the news wasn't just some terrible nightmare. It was real. Dylan was gone.

She took a shaky step back, ignoring the servant's question. Without another word, she headed downstairs, got in her car, and drove straight to Westhill Cemetery.

This place held Dylan's secrets-if he was still alive, this was where he'd come. He always did.

She called Richard again. He picked up but didn't say anything. Clara was quiet for a moment, then said, "I want to go in. To Westhill Cemetery."

Richard let out a long, heavy breath. "Go ahead."

She ended the call and passed through the second checkpoint without any trouble. When she reached the manor at the cemetery's heart, she braced herself for resistance, but nobody stopped her this time.

manor was as beautiful as ever-so perfect it felt surreal, almost unsettling. Clara wandered the halls for two hours, searching for anything, any sign of him. Nothing. Just the staff, moving around quietly, as if they too were ghosts haunting

and pink. From the hilltop, the view was breathtaking. Clara let out a bitter little laugh and

had caved in. She wanted to believe this was just one of Dylan's twisted games, that he was punishing her for wanting a divorce. Maybe he was hiding somewhere right now, watching her fall apart, that smug smile on his lips. He'd always loved messing with

sliver of sunlight vanished and the cold crept in. When she finally stood up,

left Westhill Cemetery, night had fallen. Outside, she saw

wore an oversized tracksuit,

appeared. She barely acknowledged them, just walked past and climbed into the

her in the backseat. They drove in silence, heading home. But halfway there, Clara spoke, her voice

steering wheel, but he didn't argue. He just

was chaos when

was packing, up ready to leave When Clara walked in, some of the servants looked at her with hope, but it quickly faded

speaking quietly. "Ma'am, thank you

sent people—they're taking

fist at her side as she looked at Justin and Lucius, who were lounging on the sofa like they