Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 687

Mrs. Ferguson almost fainted on the spot, clutching at the nearest person and desperately asking what had happened.

A maid passing by, seeing her panic, quickly tried to explain. “Ms. Clara liked that tree before she left, so the young master had it dug up for her.”

Unbelievable.

Mrs. Ferguson’s face went chalk white, and she collapsed right then and there.

She was convinced now—Clara had come to curse the Ferguson family. Of all things, she’d had to take the family’s lucky tree. Maybe Clara really was their bad luck charm, just like those ill-fated stars people whispered about, destined to bring trouble wherever she went.

Meanwhile, Clara was totally oblivious to the chaos she’d caused. When she got back to Palm Bay, she asked someone to plant the tree just outside her floor-to-ceiling windows.

The roots had barely settled when the butler called Dylan, sounding frantic.

“Young Master, Mrs. Ferguson just fainted.”

Dylan frowned. Wasn’t she fine just a little while ago? How did things go south so quickly?

“Did someone upset her?”

The butler wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Ms. Clara took the tree Mrs. Ferguson brought back from the temple. It meant a lot to her. She got too worked up and passed out.”

Dylan paused, his gaze shifting to Clara.

She was standing under the newly planted tree, gently touching its leaves. The green jade bracelet on her wrist caught the light, perfectly matching the fresh leaves.

She looked stunning.

The butler was still talking on the phone, growing more anxious with Dylan’s silence. “Young Master, maybe we should just—”

“Clara likes it. Find another one just like it and put it back for Mrs. Ferguson.”

The butler’s face changed. That tree was one of a kind—where was he supposed to find another?

“But—”

He didn’t get to finish. Clara called out from under the tree, “Honey, is it okay if we keep it right here?”

Dylan didn’t bother replying to the butler—he just hung up and walked over to Clara, his voice soft. “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

The next three days were a whirlwind. Dylan was busy nonstop, handling the birthday party preparations. Clara only caught glimpses of him when she was half-asleep at night.

Then, on the eve of the party, a heavy rainstorm hit the city.

Clara felt strangely unsettled. The main hall at Palm Bay was full of people—planners, staff, strangers—finalizing every last detail for the party.

She stood upstairs, looking down at the crowd. She didn’t know any of them and didn’t feel like going down to mingle.

The wind was wild, carrying the scent of rain, damp and heavy.

She tried to breathe through the ache, but it wouldn’t let up.

She picked up the photo again.

Dylan was in it, she recognized him instantly. But the other man... she just couldn’t place him. Every time she tried to focus on his face, her head throbbed, like it might split open.

Who was he?

She stared at the photo, lost in thought, almost hypnotized.

Just then, the balcony door slid open and Dylan’s voice broke the silence. “What are you looking at?”

The photo slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.

She bent down to grab it, but his hand got there first.

Long, graceful fingers picked up the photo.

The storm outside seemed to fade away. In that moment, it felt like the whole world had gone still.