Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 727

Something wasn’t right.

Clara lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

No, something was definitely off. Dylan’s tenderness, the way he cared for her—it all felt alarmingly natural, like he’d been doing it forever.

She remembered what Mrs. Hawthorne had said, about Dylan picking wildflowers at the old country chapel. She remembered hurling those flowers at him; he hadn’t made a sound in protest.

She had no idea how long she drifted in her thoughts before the door creaked open again. Dylan stepped in, carrying a bowl of soup.

He gently helped her sit up, slipping a pillow behind her lower back.

He stirred the soup, scooped up a spoonful, and held it to her lips.

She drank, her eyes lingering on his face.

But Dylan wouldn’t meet her gaze. He just quietly repeated the motion—scoop, feed, repeat—like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Clara ate until her stomach finally stopped aching. Only then did she speak, her voice hesitant. “You…”

She got the word out, then immediately turned away, embarrassed.

Even that small movement felt exhausting—her whole body was heavy and weak.

Dylan just waited, holding the bowl, patient for whatever she wanted to say.

The silence pressed in, thick and tense, like he was waiting for his sentence to be passed.

If she’d remembered her past, she wouldn’t be this gentle, she thought. But fate had been strangely generous to him.

It took Clara a long moment before she dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked, lashes trembling. He finally looked at her.

She couldn’t hold his gaze. Her cheeks went pink. “I didn’t know you… you…”

The rest of her words stuck in her throat, her face burning. She’d never felt so awkward.

Dylan said nothing. He just watched her, steady and silent.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry. I always sort of knew, deep down. I just… I thought you saw me as a stand-in. I never thought you actually cared.”

Mrs. Hawthorne’s words echoed in her mind. That night she’d been pushed into the pit, with dirt raining down on her, she’d finally realized just how stupid she’d been.

She’d ruined his legs, and he never blamed her for it.

He was always so good to her, and she’d chalked it up to his manners.

He’d forced her into marriage, and she’d told herself it was just him using his power.

She’d never even considered that he might actually love her.

Dylan’s feelings were buried so deep, like a kaleidoscope—every little, dazzling piece hidden where nobody could see. Who knew when it might all burst out?

She tried not to imagine what kind of love could drive someone like him to such desperate things.

Her face was hot as she bit her lip.

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