Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

"Ma'am, we made chicken soup tonight. If you'd like something different, just let us know a day ahead," the housekeeper murmured softly beside Clara.

Everyone in this house treated Clara with genuine warmth-so long as she didn't ask to borrow their phones, life stayed peaceful and easy.

Clara cradled her mug of ginger tea, taking a forced sip. Just then, she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Dylan must be back.

She'd thought he'd be working late, especially since he'd skipped out on the office for days. But here he was, home earlier than she'd expected.

Clara kept her eyes down, refusing to even glance at the entryway.

She'd been living at Palm Bay for quite some time now, and not once had Dylan come looking for her. Marrying her seemed more like placing a vase in the living room—a decoration, nothing more.

She didn't get him at all. Was he really willing to go against Walter's orders just to keep a stand-in around?

As soon as Dylan walked in, the staff started setting the table, laying out a proper feast. The housekeeper called out, "Ma'am, dinner's ready."

But Clara, still shaken from her dream about Z, felt no hunger at all. She put down her teacup and headed straight upstairs.

Dylan watched her go, his face unreadable. All he said was, "Put it all away."

The housekeeper looked surprised. Hadn't Mr. Ferguson asked them to make dinner tonight? Why were neither of them eating?

Then she remembered: the past few days, even if the couple sat at the same table, they never spoke. Or rather, Clara never answered Dylan's questions, never even looked his way. Silence had become their routine.

Living under the same roof, they were like strangers who'd known each other too long.noveldrama

"Sir, you should try to eat a little," the housekeeper said quietly.

Dylan just walked away toward the elevator, not saying a word.

The staff exchanged glances and quietly cleared away all the food they'd worked on so carefully.

Dylan went to his study, opened a drawer, and took out a ring. He turned it slowly between his fingers, a small smile playing at his lips.

He wore his wedding ring, but after a closer look, he realized Clara didn't wear hers.

The wedding ring was the only piece of jewelry he could wear openly.

As he traced the band with his thumb, his mood almost visibly lifted.

Aiden came in, pausing when he saw the softness in Dylan's expression. He sighed to himself.

"Mr. Ferguson, I don't think we can keep this from Walter much longer. He's already picked someone from the Warren family. It's Tara."

Walter's choice was clever. Dylan and Richard Warren were close, and out of respect for Richard, Dylan couldn't just turn the Warrens down.

For all his arrogance and sharp edges, Richard doted on his cousin Tara. Tara had liked Dylan once; after he gently turned her down, she threw herself into her architecture career.

Among all the socialites, Tara stood

Built

out. She was low-key, talented, and after being rejected, she never chased after Dylan again. She'd an impressive career-she'd even helped design that famous library overseas. People called her a genius in architecture.

No one would question her being with Dylan.

But if Dylan embarrassed her, how could he face his best friend?

Aiden looked troubled. "I called

Richard. He didn't know anything about this. Ms. Warren's been

abroad these last years, winning net

awards and joining design institutes. He thought she'd stay overseas longer. Walter must've reached out to her privately. She's already on a flight back tonight. Apparently, she accepted Walter's invitation."

Back when Tara was chasing Dylan, it was during the toughest period of his life.

"Sir, this..."

Walter was making a huge show of Tara's return. He'd already told the rest of the Warren family. Word was spreading fast-everyone thought the Fergusons and the Warrens were about to be joined by marriage. If nothing happened, it would look like Ms. Warren came home for nothing.

Dylan might be the golden boy, but Tara was just as accomplished. Neither family

was the type to swallow their pride.