Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 561

Dylan rolled into the old mansion’s grand hall.

Tonight, it was just Walter and the butler waiting for him. The rest of the Ferguson family was nowhere to be seen.

The atmosphere was heavy, but not quite hostile. Walter didn’t look angry—just weary. He glanced up at Dylan and said, “Come here.”

Dylan eased his wheelchair closer. “Father.”

Walter rubbed his temples, his eyes dark and troubled. After a long pause, he finally asked, “Is Clara the one you’re marrying?”

He’d ignored so many warning signs. There had always been rumors about Clara and Simon, and Dylan, being Simon’s elder, was the last person he thought would get involved with her.

He realized now how careless he’d been.

“Yes,” Dylan answered, clearer and more direct than ever before.

Sometimes, when fury goes beyond words, all that’s left is laughter.

Walter let out a short, incredulous laugh, like he’d just heard something absurd.

But instead of smashing his cup, he calmly picked it up and took a slow sip. “Are you sure about this?”

Walter knew his youngest son too well; there was no point asking. If Dylan hadn’t made up his mind, he wouldn’t have gone behind everyone’s back to get married.

“I’m sure.”

“What about Clara? Was she in on this, lying to me with you?”

“She didn’t want this. I forced her.”

Walter’s hand trembled, nearly spilling his drink. It was only his years of self-control that kept him from throwing the cup across the room.

Dylan looked down, completely unaware of how shocking his own words sounded.

Clara had been waiting outside for over an hour. Just when she was about to give up, she finally saw Dylan coming out.

He was sitting straight in his wheelchair, just as he always did, but as he got closer, she caught the sharp scent of blood.

She looked up and saw the back of his shirt soaked in red.

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Dylan, what happened to you…?”

Aiden was already in the driver’s seat, his tone flat. “Family discipline. We’re taking the boss to the hospital.”

Clara’s fingers curled up tight, but she couldn’t find any words.

The car was spacious, and Dylan sat quietly next to her. His eyes were closed, but sweat dotted his pale forehead.

Clara felt stuck. She should’ve been angry at him, after everything he’d done to her. But seeing him like this—so pale and fragile—she found she couldn’t say a single thing.