Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Everyone else had already left. After all, today was the old man's eightieth birthday, and guests would be arriving any minute now.

In the quiet room, only Mrs. Ferguson and Dylan remained.

Dylan looked down, lashes casting a shadow over his eyes. His face was unreadable, as if nothing could touch him.

A sharp ache bloomed in Mrs. Ferguson's chest. She didn't know why, but regret crept in-regret that she'd raised her son to be so distant, so closed off from the world.

"Dylan, you and Tara... Forget it," she sighed. "All I wanted was for you to give her a proper title. Tara told me herself-even if you two had something, she wouldn't cling. If you really can't accept it, we'll talk after the party. Tara is a good girl. But I keep thinking about that time in Palm Bay, the way you looked when you served Clara food. That was the most relaxed I've seen you in years."

Dylan's fingers trembled slightly at Clara's name.

When he woke up, he'd seen the marks on Tara's skin, but his mind was a mess. He couldn't remember much, except flashes of Clara-her face, her voice. The pain in his body reminded him of what happened, and he glanced at his shoulder, lost in thought.

"Mother, besides Clara, I'm not interested in anyone else."

He was sure-nothing had happened between him and Tara.

Mrs. Ferguson's expression tightened. "You might be obsessed with Clara, but in that state, how do you know you didn't mistake Tara for her? Otherwise, why would Tara have those marks? Dylan, that drug your sister-in-law used was dangerous-I don't know where she even found something so awful. But Clara's still innocent, still a kid at heart. As long as you keep quiet, she won't care about any of this."

Dylan's jaw clenched, his knuckles white.

"But I care," he said quietly.

He was afraid.

He-

Mrs. Ferguson put a hand to her chest, words sticking in her throat. "If you really can't let Clara go, I won't stop you anymore. But your father has his own plans. Dylan, ever since you took over, you haven't had a choice. I always wanted you to stand taller, to make me proud in front of everyone overseas. You know there's someone there I can't stand-I just wanted to prove myself all these years. But seeing you like this... I can't help but feel sorry for you too."

She glanced at the clock, realizing time was running out. She sighed "Go wash up. The doctor already tended to your wounds. We'll talk about everything else after the party, okay?" noveldrama

Dylan kicked off the covers and got out of bed. Mrs. Ferguson stood, ready to

leave and give him some space.

But when she reached the doorway, she paused, hand on the knob. "I always said I wanted to prove myself. Back then, just for pride, sent that child away without a second thought. I thought I'd never regret it, but every time I see your face, I can't help but think of him. That place was no place for a child. I wonder what he's like now. Dylan, I've been away from the Capital for ten years, and not a day has gone by without pain. I kept telling myself, if you could be strong enough, if you could take over the Ferguson family's overseas affairs, then his sacrifice would mean something. That's how I got through it. I pray for that boy every time I pass a temple. But I know, if he hadn't been a Ferguson, he wouldn't have carried all this, and I wouldn't have forced you so much. After all the planning and scheming, I realize I've let you both down."

She opened the door and closed it softly behind her.

Dylan said nothing. He walked into the bathroom.

The broken glass from before had been cleaned up, the shower door replaced. Everything looked brand new.

He showered quickly and changed into a fresh suit.

It was almost six. The Ferguson family's birthday banquet was about to begin.