Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 586

The commotion drew glances from everyone nearby. Aaron cleared his throat a few times and looked over. “Simon, you seem out of it.”

Simon kept his head down, staring at the blood on his palm where his fingernails had dug in. He masked the bitterness in his eyes.

“Just... family stuff getting to me,” he muttered.

The room fell silent again, everyone quietly focusing on their food.

After dinner, Walter called Dylan aside.

“Go check on your mother. Is your back any better?”

It still wasn’t fully healed—just scabbed over.

“Yeah,” Dylan replied.

He wheeled himself toward the family shrine. The chapel was a long way from the main hall, down several echoing corridors. Above the door, an ornate plaque read “Ferguson Family Chapel.” Inside, a few golden prayer cushions were spread out. Mrs. Ferguson was already kneeling on one, her back straight and composed.

The incense burning here was a special blend—its scent was unique, impossible to find anywhere else.

“Mother,” Dylan called softly.

Mrs. Ferguson’s fingers paused on her prayer beads. She opened her eyes slowly, as if surfacing from deep thought.

“I heard you were disciplined a few days ago. Are you feeling better?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

She stood, lit a stick of incense, and placed it in the burner. The smoke curled between them.

“When you were abroad, didn’t they say you’d be starting rehab for your legs?”

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Tara was always meant to be your fiancée. Even when you started getting close to that Dawson girl, I warned you—Tara is your future wife. As for the woman who caused your injury, you said she saved you overseas, so we let it go. But if you insist on marrying her, the people overseas will never agree.”

“Dylan, you’ve wanted to meet your brother ever since you found out about him. It’s been over twenty years. It’s time. I’ll make arrangements—you just have to go along with it, alright? I’m sure he has a lot to say to you.”

Every word was delivered in a calm, gentle tone, but the threat was clear in every syllable.

Both sons, but the one left behind was just a stepping stone now.

Dylan lowered his gaze and turned his wheelchair. “We’ll talk about it,” he said quietly.

Mrs. Ferguson didn’t turn around, still rolling the beads between her fingers. As the sound of the wheelchair faded down the hall, she finally called out, “There are people overseas keeping an eye on you. They’re satisfied with what you’ve accomplished so far. Don’t throw it all away for a woman. Tara is the best choice for you.”

The wheels creaked softly, then stilled in the distance.

Dylan rolled out of the old Ferguson estate. He glanced toward the column at the entrance and saw someone waiting there, standing perfectly still. Dylan knew they’d been there for a long time.