Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 247

After Clara slid into the car, her heart was still racing from the chaos Dylan had just stirred up. But knowing Dylan, with his naturally reserved nature, he probably hadn't meant to cause such a stir. It was just bad timing with his low blood sugar episode, which had left her drenched in a cold sweat, her back still clammy.

Clara rubbed her temples and tried calling Z again, but still no answer. She had no clue if Lincoln had actually gotten his hands on Z, and she wasn't about to gamble on it. She'd managed to track down Lincoln's address and was driving there with a mix of dread and determination.

When she finally arrived, she discovered Lincoln had already headed to the Ferguson estate. In Lincoln’s mind, Dylan was as good as gone, and he expected the Ferguson estate to be thrown into chaos soon. Cedric would surely need to name a new heir, and it would be between Lincoln and his younger brother Aaron. Simon was a lost cause, and Cedric had long since given up on him.

With Aaron overseas and out of the loop, Lincoln saw his chance to win over their grandfather. He couldn’t believe how easily his clumsy scheme seemed to have worked against Dylan—it was almost laughable. Everyone at the Ferguson estate had always sung Dylan’s praises, and yet here he was, supposedly taken down by a woman. Lincoln smirked at the thought that the heir’s position should’ve been his all along. Their grandfather was so blatantly biased!

Lincoln entered the Ferguson estate practically glowing with smug satisfaction. But that all shattered when he saw Dylan sitting with Cedric, casually having tea. It was as if he’d seen a ghost; his legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor.

Cedric gave Lincoln a puzzled look. “What’s with the grand entrance?”

Lincoln stared at Dylan, dread pooling in his stomach. Dylan, sitting there in his wheelchair, seemed completely unbothered, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened. Lincoln’s mind was a whirl of confusion. Just two hours ago, he’d heard Dylan was in dire straits. Clara had sounded genuinely panicked, a tone you couldn't fake. The poison Lincoln had used was supposed to be instant and irreversible. So how was Dylan here, looking perfectly fine?

Sweat dripped down Lincoln’s face, his lips quivering. Cedric watched him with a mix of irritation and concern. “What’s going on?”

Lincoln wiped his forehead, avoiding eye contact with Dylan, unsure how much he knew. He was desperate to escape the estate, but just as he was leaving, Dylan placed a chess piece on the board with a deliberate clink. In that moment, Lincoln felt like a pawn in Dylan’s game.