Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 805

If these secrets had anything to do with Clara—and if knowing them meant Clara would leave him—then this was Megan’s golden opportunity.

She took a deep breath, trying to hide her excitement, and let a sly smile spread across her lips.

“Tell me,” she asked, “has Clara ever been in there?”

The man’s voice was as cold as ever. “Please go back.”

So Clara hadn’t been there. There really was something going on with that mysterious woman who sang—something that had to be related to Clara.

Otherwise, knowing Dylan, he’d never have posted so many people to keep watch. He only ever got this paranoid when it came to Clara.

Megan could feel it: this was her chance.

She went back to the main house, barely able to hide her good mood. After dinner, she put on her most sympathetic face and asked after Clara.

“Is she still not awake? Will she be okay by tonight?” she asked the maid, eyes shining with fake tears.

“She’s still asleep. Probably won’t wake up until tonight,” the maid sighed.

“Thank you,” Megan said softly, dabbing at her eyes like she was heartbroken.

“Ms. Megan, you should rest after dinner,” the maid suggested.

Megan nodded. “Thank you.”

After eating, she slipped off to her guest room. Her window looked out at the distant guesthouse, but it was so far away that all she could see was a faint glow from the lights—nothing else.

She leaned back against the headboard, wondering again: who was Dylan hiding there?

She’d always known Dylan had a thing for Clara. That was the whole reason she’d befriended Clara in the first place.

Lowering her lashes, Megan started piecing together everything she’d managed to wring out of Simon.

Simon had said Clara’s boyfriend was dead. If only she could pin that on Dylan—if Clara believed it, those two would be over for good.

She let out a long breath, her mind spinning so fast it hurt. She flopped onto the bed, frustrated but determined.

For the next few days, she’d have to keep playing the loving best friend.

She’d been faking it for years at Moonlight—she was practically a professional. There was no way Clara would catch on.

*

Clara finally woke up the next morning.

Her fever had broken, but her head was still pounding, like it might split open.

It felt just like the time she’d woken up in Dylan’s bed.

She rubbed her temples, just as the bedroom door creaked open. Megan slipped in, looking genuinely worried.

“Clara, you’re awake? You scared me half to death! You still haven’t told me what happened.”

All the color drained from Clara’s face. She was about to answer when a maid hurried in and knocked on the door.

“Ma’am, Mr. Ferguson is back.”

Clara stiffened, thinking she must have misheard. Dylan, back? Why would his father let him come home?

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