Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 681

Clara’s face was pale, her hand gripping the edge of the bed so hard it looked like she might snap the wood in two.

When Dylan made his way up from downstairs, it was already close to eleven. The plans for the birthday banquet were finally settled. Thinking of Clara waiting for him in his room, he couldn’t help but smile a little as he pushed open the door to his suite.

He hadn’t stayed overnight at the old house in ages, and honestly, he never liked it much. Too many memories he’d rather leave buried.

He wheeled himself inside, rounded the corner—and stopped. The bed was empty.

His brows furrowed. Maybe she was just restless, wandering around. She was young, after all.

He called for the butler, his voice calm but clipped. “Where is she?”

The butler looked just as confused—he’d only just come up himself. Quickly, he went to ask the maid.

The maid didn’t seem the least bit flustered. “No one told me there were special arrangements, so I put her in the last room at the end of the hall.”

Dylan’s eyes went cold. That’s the storage room.

He fixed the maid with a glare that could cut glass.

She went white as a sheet, dropping to her knees without a word.

The butler was at a loss. Even if Clara was just a guest, sticking her in the storage room was way out of line. Was this maid trying to make trouble?

He rushed to smooth things over. “Young Master, let’s check on her first.”

But Dylan’s eyes never left the maid.

She shivered under the weight of his silence, head bowed, unable to get a word out.

After a long, tense moment, Dylan finally said, voice like ice, “Pack your things. You’re done here.”

Mrs. Ferguson’s face stayed cold. She gave a short, sharp laugh. “Dylan is head of this family. What he says goes. You’re a servant—a housekeeper. What makes you think Clara won’t be respected here?”

The words hit hard. After so many years, everyone had treated her kindly. She’d forgotten her place, started to think of herself as family.

Mrs. Ferguson took a slow breath. “If he says you must go, then go. Dylan might be blinded by Clara, but he hasn’t let me down in anything else.”

“Mrs. Ferguson! I was wrong, I really was! I only put Clara in the storage room because I was thinking of Ms. Warren. She’s looked after you all these years—even when you were away in New York, she always reminded us to care for the tree you planted. That’s why it’s grown so well. I always thought she’d be the lady of the house. Now some new girl shows up out of nowhere…”

Mrs. Ferguson paused, moved despite herself. She’d noticed the tree she’d planted years ago was thriving—so Tara had cared for it all this time.

People have feelings, after all.

She sighed, looking down at the sobbing maid. “I’ll talk to him for you. But don’t let this happen again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson! Thank you!”