Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The old lady stood up slowly.

"All these years, I've carried something dark inside me. Ten years ago, I went to a temple, hoping the quiet would finally set me free. But even now, I can't let it go. I can't accept that I was the only one blamed back then. I can't accept that after all my years in the Ferguson family, your father still only cared about his next move. But when I saw you, I wondered-maybe I'd been wrong all along."

She seemed to age right before his eyes. Her fingers still twisted the prayer beads, but the fierce energy she'd had before was gone.

"Do you really think I can't see what's going on? Clara doesn't love you. Your father says I'm too soft, but Tara-she really does love you. She's spent all these years humbling herself just to stay by my side for you. If you choose someone who loves you like that, you won't have to crash headfirst into heartbreak, won't end up like me, bitter to the bone."

She didn't want that for her son. She wanted him to shine, to rise above all the mess of love and longing.

Power makes people proud. Love just eats away at you. It took her decades to see that.

She thought, after all these years of telling him, he'd get it.

But all he said was, "Mother, she loves me."

She didn't bother saying anything else. She just waved him off and left.

Dylan watched her go, pressed his lips together, and headed quietly upstairs.

He eased open the bedroom door and saw her sleeping on the bed. Just seeing her there made everything inside him settle.

*

Somewhere else, Richard scrolled through the files someone had sent him and let out a soft, almost amused huff.noveldrama

Someone on the other end asked, "How much do you remember about what happened back then?"

He frowned, leaning back in his chair, but didn't reply.

The Ferguson family's secrets ran deep-so deep, you needed a whole army just to dig them out.

He tapped his fingers on the desk, smiled to himself, and closed the laptop. After

a moment, he stepped out onto the balcony. He hesitated, then called Dylan.

No answer.

So Richard pulled out a cigarette, lit up, and looked out over the city's endless lights. After a deep breath, he pinched the cigarette out and picked up his phone.

[Dylan, when are you heading overseas?]

Dylan saw the message, glanced at Clara sleeping on the bed, and pressed his lips together.

[We'll talk about it later.]

[Alright. Just let me know before you go.]

A storm was coming, but nobody seemed to care.

*

Clara woke up in the middle of the night.

She felt something tight around her waist.

She turned and saw Dylan's face right there next to hers.

He never could sleep with the lights off. The

side lamp was still

so bright she could see

his eyelashes. Content of

She tried to scoot away, but her body felt weirdly heavy, like she just didn't have

the strength.

Her last memory was of someone injecting her with something and getting buried alive. Instinctively, she reached for her neck. The cut from the knife was long healed.

She tried her hardest to move, but to anyone else, it probably just looked like her shoulder twitched.

Dylan woke up and immediately pulled her into his arms.

Clara felt hot and unsettled.

His voice was rough, his chin resting on her hair. "What's wrong?"

"I'm hungry."

She honestly didn't know how long she'd been out, but her stomach was definitely empty.

He opened his eyes, sat up, and turned on every light in the room.

Clara squeezed her eyes shut

against how bright it was. When she finally opened them, his face was

suddenly right there, filling her

vision.

He kissed her. She tried to pull away, but she was just too weak.

There was nowhere to go.

His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, warm and gentle. "I'm going to heat

something up for you," he said softly.