Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

"D"

She started to say something, but he suddenly pushed her away, swung open the door, and disappeared without looking back.

Clara stood there, stunned. If not for the salty taste still lingering on her lips, she might have convinced herself it was all just a dream.

She looked down at her hands, finally realizing what the feeling was.

The towel was balled up in her fist, and her chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.

She stayed like that for hours, only coming back to herself when sunlight spilled through the windows.

When she finally went downstairs, hoping to find him and maybe smooth things over, Dylan was already gone.

Aiden was gone too. The housekeeper told her they'd both left for work early that morning.

"Ma'am, Mr. Carter actually turned down work recently just to stay here with you. But now, with Walter's 80th birthday coming up, it's a busy time for the company. If you're worried, why not give him a call?"

A call?

She didn't even have a phone. Dylan had promised to get her one, but he seemed to have forgotten about it. He hadn't brought it up again.

""

Clara was about to admit that she'd probably gone too far last night, and that Dylan was likely going to be angry for a long time.

But just then, the housekeeper handed her a phone, her face warm with a gentle smile.

"Mr. Carter made sure to leave this for you before he left this morning."

Clara took it quietly. He'd been so furious the night before, storming out and slamming the door-yet he still remembered to get her a phone.

The thought made her heart ache, sharp and deep, as if someone had stabbed her with a knife.

She scrolled through the contacts. There was only one name: Dylan.

It was a brand new phone, clearly arranged by him. Her old one was gone-too many people had that number, and Dylan wanted to make sure no one could reach her who shouldn't.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so, Mr. Carter really cares about you. I've never seen him like this before. He's always been all about work, never taking time off, but these past few days he's been here with you, barely leaving your side. You're very important to him, so maybe try not to upset him too much. Honestly, I think he loves you more than anyone else in this world."

Clara gripped the phone, staring down into her soup, appetite gone. "I know."

Even if she didn't understand everything, she could feel what it was like to be treasured.

But still, there were moments-small, almost invisible things that told her something was off between them.

It felt like there was always a thin wall between them, something neither of them

could break through to really reach the other's heart.

She wanted to ask about it, but she didn't even know what to say.

And he seemed scared of her questions.

The way he'd lost control last night-he'd looked so defeated, like he was sinking

into something dark, something that was swallowing him whole.

Like there was no life left in him at all.

That side of him scared her.

And beneath that fear, it hurt.

After breakfast, she sat on the sofa, holding her phone, feeling lost.

She hesitated for a long time, then finally sent a message.

[Hey, I started reading comics.]

She took a photo of herself with an open comic book and sent it, even though she wasn't really

tong-she just wanted an excuse

to talk to him.

Ten minutes went by, and he didn't answer.

She tried again, snapping a picture of a bowl of fruit.

[Having some fruit. Did you eat yet?]

She kept going-ten messages in total, all met with silence.

Her heart sank. Suddenly, she remembered her brother's number.

Thank God Charles had made her memorize it, drilling her for hours until she knew it by heart.

She took a deep breath and dialed Charles.

Since coming back from Country Z, Charles had been out of it, spending his days sprawled on the castle lawn, barely moving.

He'd been like that for days; it was impossible not to notice something was wrong.

When the man got home and saw Charles out there again, he couldn't help but ask the driver, "Still no change?"

The driver sighed. “No, sir. Ever since

he got back from Country Z, he hardly eats, won't go out with the twins, hasn't touched the

ve

helicopter-he just sits on the grass all day, staring into space." noveldrama

The man rubbed his forehead and told the driver to stop the car.

He stepped out, dressed in a dark suit-he looked older and sharper than

Charles, with a colder edge to his features.

He walked over to the porch, and the twins, who'd been dozing beside Charles, instantly perked up at the sound of footsteps.

"Charlie, you've been out here for days. Why not go up the mountain for a change?"

Charles used to love taking the twins up into the hills, sometimes disappearing for weeks at a time.

Charles flopped back on the grass, chewing on a blade of grass. "Big brother, I just don't have the energy."

"What about when Mitch gets back? Maybe he can take you out?"

Charles closed his eyes, looking even more uninterested. "Whatever Mitch does,

I'm not interested."

Mitch was known for being a total playboy—if he wasn't working,

Soff chasing women, nevernet

much what Charles got up to.

Honestly, all his brothers were the same: whenever he complained, their solution

was just to throw money at him.

The man frowned, surprised to see Charles so out of it.

"Is this about your sister?"

Charles's eyelashes trembled. He immediately sat up on the grass. "Did someone

call you? Was it Dylan? Or Richard?"