Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

She was clearly annoyed, but Dylan just looked at her, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Clara couldn't help but notice he seemed off today-something must have happened to put him in such a mood, and now he was taking it out on her in his own playful way.

What on earth had happened to him?

She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down. Reaching out, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away.

He didn't resist; he just let her do it, his touch loosening until he let go completely.

The candy he'd given her had already melted on her tongue, its sweetness lingering in her mouth-just like his worries, dissolving little by little.

Without another word, Dylan turned and walked toward the main house.

Clara didn't follow. She touched her lips, still tasting that unexpected sweetness, and glanced at the table where a few more candies sat, still in their wrappers.

What kind of candy was that, anyway? It was actually really good.

Dylan entered the main house. In his study, he just stared at his fingers, lost in thought.

Aiden came in, dropping a stack of files onto Dylan's desk. "Mr. Ferguson, these are the reports you need to review this afternoon. Dinner at the old manor is at six sharp."

Dylan didn't even look up. He kept staring at his hand, completely out of it.

Aiden just sighed.

*

Ada's funeral was over almost as quickly as it began. Once the last of the Fergusons left, Simon ordered the ashes to be taken away.

Michael watched his son, who hadn't shed a single tear throughout the whole thing. Simon looked dazed, completely checked out, and that coldness gnawed at Michael's heart.

Honestly, he and Ada had never gotten along, but she'd given everything she had to Simon.

Michael knew he was no saint-he'd always treated women like toys, keeping around whoever made him happiest.

But this son of his? Somehow, Simon seemed even colder.noveldrama

"Simon, aren't you going to visit your mother's grave?"

Michael had picked out the plot himself. Simon hadn't lifted a finger to help.

Simon just stood by his car and got in. "I have things to take care of."

Michael was furious, but he held it in. He'd have to rely on Simon in the future, after all.

But Simon couldn't focus on anything. One address kept flashing through his mind.

He drove for two hours, heading out to a cemetery on the outskirts of the city. Shelly had been buried here years ago—this was the most exclusive cemetery in the whole Capital. Normal people didn't stand a chance of getting in.

Eden had written this address in her notebook, but why a cemetery?

Did that mean the child was already gone?

No way.

He remembered overhearing Eden and Dylan fighting-Dylan had always treated Eden differently, and it was all because of that child.

If the kid was gone, why would Dylan still care so much? There had to be more to the story.

Whatever Dylan was hiding about his child, it had to be huge.

Suddenly, Simon

remembered Dylan had come to this cemetery a few times over the years, but everyone assumed he was only visiting Shelly's grave That's why the rumors about him never getting over Shelly wouldn't die, and Dylan never bothered to clear things up.

Was he really just using the gossip to hide a deeper secret?

Simon couldn't let this go now. He was determined to bring Dylan down, no matter what.

He hung around, watching the entrance. Everyone coming and going was from

the city's elite; even some big-name officials showed up.

Most people buried here were from powerful families or had some kind of distinguished service.

The hero's section was separate from the family tombs, and Simon had never been over there. People said it was under military control, no outsiders allowed.

He wandered among the family graves, pretending to be there for someone, but his eyes kept drifting toward a narrow path that led up another hill. Even from a distance, it looked serious-guards everywhere.

He pressed his lips together and forced himself to walk that way, but a group of

men in uniform stopped him.

They knew Simon—or at least, they knew everyone who came through here.

"Mr. Simon, do you have a reservation?"

Simon lowered his gaze, remembering that some of his grandfather's friends were buried here.

"I'm here to pay my respects to a few of my grandfather's old friends."

"You'll need to call Walter, sir. Visits to this section are by appointment only."

Simon immediately pulled out his phone and called Michael.

He told Michael to move Ada's burial to this cemetery. Michael was livid.

"We already discussed the plot! We're on our way there right now, and you want

to change it last minute? Do you know how complicated this is?"

Simon's expression turned cold. "Dad, I told you to come, so just

come. You aren't grieving Mom, and

you don't care about luck or any of

that superstition. Let's stop

pretending.”

Michael was silent for a moment, chilled by just how cold and heartless his son

could be.