Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Dylan rolled into the old mansion's grand hall.

Tonight, it was just Walter and the butler waiting for him. The rest of the Ferguson family was nowhere to be seen.

The atmosphere was heavy, but not quite hostile. Walter didn't look angry-just weary. He glanced up at Dylan and said, "Come here."

Dylan eased his wheelchair closer. "Father."

Walter rubbed his temples, his eyes dark and troubled. After a long pause, he finally asked, "Is Clara the one you're marrying?"

He'd ignored so many warning signs. There had always been rumors about Clara and Simon, and Dylan, being Simon's elder, was the last person he thought would get involved with her.

He realized now how careless he'd been.

"Yes," Dylan answered, clearer and more direct than ever before.

Sometimes, when fury goes beyond words, all that's left is laughter.

Walter let out a short, incredulous laugh, like he'd just heard something absurd.

But instead of smashing his cup, he calmly picked it up and took a slow sip. "Are you sure about this?"

Walter knew his youngest son too well; there was no point asking. If Dylan hadn't made up his mind, he wouldn't have gone behind everyone's back to get married.

"I'm sure."

"What about Clara? Was she in on this, lying to me with you?"

"She didn't want this. I forced her."

Walter's hand trembled, nearly spilling his drink. It was only his years of self- control that kept him from throwing the cup across the room.

Dylan looked down, completely unaware of how shocking his own words sounded.

Walter's laughter turned cold. "Unbelievable. After all these years, I really did misjudge you. Dylan, don't forget how you got where you are. Can you live with what your brother gave up for you? He became your shadow, put himself in danger over and over, just so you could have this position. Do you really think you're special? You're only here because someone else held you up."

Dylan's hand tensed on the armrest, knuckles white, as if he was fighting back

something inside him-only to force it down again.

Walter took a deep breath and set his cup aside.

"Your brother hasn't been home in years. Since he was chosen, he hasn't been allowed to contact us Your mother left the Capital over it. Dylan your life isn't just yours. Don't you know what's on your shoulders? A woman like Clara will only drag you down. If you still care what I think, you'll-"

He didn't get to finish.

"Father, I only want her."

Dylan's voice was quiet, but there was no room for debate.

Walter stared at him, stunned, then slowly stood up and spoke to the butler,

"Prepare the family discipline."

The butler blanched, voice shaky. "Sir, the young master's health isn't good. If we use the family discipline-"

Walter ignored him, climbing thenoveldrama

stairs, his eyes flashing with cold anger. "Do it. Then send him back to recover, and make sure he thinks. about what he's done before he comes to me again. Tara's already on her way home. If he doesn't

listen, Clara will suffer too."

Clara had been waiting outside for over an hour. Just when she was about to give

up, she finally saw Dylan coming out.

He was sitting straight in his wheelchair, just as he always did, but as he got

closer, she caught the sharp scent of blood.

She looked up and saw the back of his shirt soaked in red.

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Dylan, what happened to you...?"

Aiden was already in the driver's seat, his tone flat. "Family discipline. We're taking the boss to the hospital."

Clara's fingers curled up tight, but she couldn't find any words.

The car was spacious, and Dylan sat quietly next to her. His eyes were closed, but sweat dotted his pale forehead.

Clara felt stuck. She should've been angry at him, after everything he'd done to her. But seeing him like this-so pale and fragile she found she couldn't say a single thing.