Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 656

Someone thought about calling Dylan, but everyone knew he was still unconscious.

Mrs. Ferguson’s face was dark with anger. She watched as Clara was dragged down the stairs, and gave a cold laugh. “You really are something. First you slapped Dylan, and now you’ve put him in a coma. Clara, you’re nothing but trouble. You can’t stay here. And now that Dylan’s out of the way, I’m taking you with me.”

Clara didn’t say a word. Her eyes went to Blackie.

Blackie stood to the side for a long moment, then finally spoke up. “Mrs. Ferguson…”

He didn’t even get to finish before Mrs. Ferguson barked, “Shut up! If anyone says another word today, I’ll end my life right here on this doorstep!”

With that, silence fell. No one dared to say a thing.

Her people shoved Clara into the car.

Clara hadn’t eaten in two days. She was exhausted—mind and body.

The car moved ahead slowly, but Clara had no clue where Mrs. Ferguson was taking her.

Halfway there, Mrs. Ferguson called Tara.

“Tara, I’ve taken Clara from Palm Bay. I’m bringing her to the temple.”

In Mrs. Ferguson’s mind, Clara must have done something to Dylan—cursed him, maybe. Clara was just too unlucky, too strange. She needed to be taken somewhere pure, somewhere spiritual, to cleanse her bad energy.

Only after getting rid of Clara’s “filth” did Mrs. Ferguson believe Dylan would recover.

A few days locked away, and then Clara would be dealt with for good.

Mrs. Ferguson had always been decisive, a big name back in the Capital. But the older she got, the more she believed in gods and spirits—so much so that Tara could easily manipulate her now.

Tara heard everything, lips curling in a faint smile, but her voice stayed calm. “Mrs. Ferguson, please try not to let this upset you too much. Dylan will be fine, I’m sure.”

The only reason anyone even knew about Dylan’s coma was thanks to Tara’s informant outside Palm Bay. He’d barely caught a glimpse, just enough to see Aiden’s panic and guess something bad had happened.

After Tara slipped a word or two to Mrs. Ferguson, she’d rushed straight to Palm Bay herself. And just as Tara expected, Dylan really was in trouble.

Every step Tara took was calculated, perfectly timed. Sometimes it felt like even fate was on her side.

“Tara, don’t worry. Your uncle will make sure everything is handled.”

Tara held back her excitement, then said a few sweet words to thank him.

Meanwhile, in the car, Mrs. Ferguson gripped her prayer beads tightly, muttering under her breath.

Clara almost laughed at the irony—how could someone believe so much in gods and spirits, and still plot to kill someone at the same time?

Rich people, Clara thought. Always looking for some kind of comfort.

Two hours later, the car started winding up the mountain. Mrs. Ferguson finally opened her eyes and looked at Clara.

“The peach grove by the temple—those blossoms are for the pilgrims. They say the flowers at the very top bring the best luck. Dylan risked everything—his legs, his recovery—to climb up and pick every last blossom from those highest branches. The second I saw it, I just knew it was him. Once that boy sets his mind to something, he never looks back. Even when I was away from the Capital, I followed his news for years. He’s never let me down—except when it comes to women. That’s where he’s failed me. Clara, don’t blame me. Everyone has their own fate. Dylan has his, you have yours. After you’re gone, I’ll buy you a plaque at the temple.”

Clara’s mind had been foggy, but hearing that, she suddenly looked up.

“He picked the blossoms himself?”