Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Tara had spent years tiptoeing around Mrs. Ferguson, always thinking that as long as Mrs. Ferguson was on her side—and as long as Dylan stayed single—her chance would come eventually.

She'd never imagined Mrs. Ferguson would cave so quickly, all because Dylan so much as hinted at a threat.

Clutching her phone, Tara kept her tone soft and sweet. "Mrs. Ferguson, I understand. Let's just let this go for now. Honestly, I care about Dylan's health even more than you do, and I'll always love him. If Clara ever hurts him, I won't just sit back and watch. Like you said, I can't just stand by and watch him suffer. There's nothing I want more than for Dylan to be happy, but I need a little time to get my head straight. I'll let you go for now. Please take care of yourself, Mrs. Ferguson."

Her words were careful-every line perfectly placed, every emotion sincere. Mrs. Ferguson was clearly moved.

Why couldn't Dylan have chosen Tara? Life was just too cruel sometimes.

*

When Dylan got back to Palm Bay, a man dressed in black stepped out of the shadows, head lowered, voice rough.

"Mrs. Ferguson threatened to end her life, I..."

"I told you-she's the one you're supposed to protect."

"I..." The man seemed lost, unable to defend himself, just standing there silently.

Dylan pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking even paler than usual. "Let her come back in her own time."

The man nodded and slipped away.

Dylan coughed, climbed the stairs, every step a fight against the pounding pain in his head. His thoughts were a mess, anger and self-loathing swirling just beneath the surface, barely under control.

He hated what he was turning into a man with a cursed fate, bringing nothing but trouble to everyone around him.

Sweat broke out on his brow as he walked into the master bedroom. The place was spotless. Even the knife had been cleaned and carefully set on the nightstand.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hand, almost able to see the ghost of old blood on the blade.

This knife had been buried deep inside him once. Back then, he hadn't even felt pain-just numbness.

Through her eyes, though, he'd seen a pain deeper than his own.

She wasn't completely heartless, not really. She just hadn't realized it herself.

Sometimes, he didn't even know if that was true. But thinking that way was the only thing that kept him going.

There was so much standing

between him and Clara. He couldn't

admit who he really was. If the truth

came out, she'd only stab deeper next time noveldrama

He could only be Dylan. That's all he could ever be from now on.

A man with a doomed fate, whether he chose to believe it or not.

He set the knife down and coughed

again. Just then, someone

from the hallway, "Mr. W called et

here."

He just grunted in reply and headed to the study.

Richard walked in, still holding an apple he'd grabbed from the coffee table downstairs.

"Everyone's talking-the Fergusons are looking for a woman. Don't tell me it's Clara again?"

News traveled fast; it had only been an hour, and already the whole city seemed to know. Just to be safe, Richard had come to see Dylan himself content belongs

He came up to the big desk, noticed how pale Dylan looked, and rolled the apple toward him.

"Dylan, you seriously don't remember what Tara said the other night?"

The apple stopped right next to Dylan's hand, but he didn't pick it up.

The room felt heavy, like the air was thinning.

Dylan didn't look up, just muttered, "No."

Richard pulled out a chair and sat down. "Alright. You don't remember."

He didn't push it. Instead, he asked, "Still feeling bad? You look awful. How'd Clara get away?"

Dylan just coughed again, eyelashes lowered.

Richard's eyes landed on the wedding ring Dylan still wore he hadn't taken it off, not even once.

Finally, Richard stood up, clearly frustrated. "Alright, I'll check on you another day."

Leaving Palm Bay, he got into his car, lit a cigarette, and let the smoke drift out the window.

He sat there for a few seconds, hesitating, then finally grabbed his phone.

“Hey, Uncle Lee, it's me—Richard. I need a favor. The Fergusons are looking for some woman, right...?”