Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 13

Clara stood there, puzzled by what he'd meant with his last remark. It felt like he had more to say. She had a gut feeling that before losing her memory, she was really not keen on meeting Dylan. From what she'd gathered about her past antics, she probably hadn't treated him well either. She rubbed her temples, letting out a deep sigh.

Late that night, she was jolted awake by the sound of some drunk pounding on a door outside. She wasn't sure if it was her door they were banging on. She got up to listen more closely, but the noise eventually faded away.

The next morning, Clara got all her interview documents ready, wrote up a resume, and sent it over to the Ferguson Corporation. Within half an hour, she received a rejection text—no interview, nothing. But she didn't give up. She kept applying to other departments, only to face rejection after rejection. Her qualifications were solid, so it was baffling that her resume wasn't even making the cut.

By noon, Megan had transferred a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to her, which was her commission from the night before. Clara's eyes lit up, and she quickly called Aiden, whose number she had saved. She had a hunch that the guy who helped her out yesterday was Dylan, and Aiden was probably his assistant. She was nervous about calling Dylan directly.

Aiden picked up almost immediately, sounding less than thrilled. "Ms. Clara."

Clara tried to keep her voice calm and friendly. "Hey, Aiden, could you give me your bank account number? I want to send the money back to you."

Aiden's tone was laced with sarcasm. Yesterday she couldn't save a dime, and now she suddenly had money—clearly, this was all an act. He rattled off his account number, and she asked, "Oh, by the way, is Mr. Dylan free anytime soon? I'd like to take him out for dinner."

She also wanted to ask why she wasn't given a shot at Ferguson Corporation.

"Ms. Clara, your game is obvious. Did Simon say something again? I’m guessing you're trying to please your fiancé by stirring things up with Mr. Dylan?"

Clara felt like screaming. No one believed her amnesia was real. "If you don't help, I'll just ask Mr. Dylan myself."

She had his number, after all.