Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 58

Clara was completely wiped out. Every part of her body ached, and she was burning up with a fever, making it impossible to respond to any messages.

When she finally woke up, it was already the next day, and her fever was still raging. It hit her like a ton of bricks. Fortunately, she had managed to sell all the apples. After a quick freshen-up, she opened her room door, determined to grab a bite.

She walked into the dining room and spotted Dylan sitting at a table loaded with food. Clara was so hungry she felt like her stomach was stuck to her backbone. After asking a nearby staff member, she realized she’d slept through both breakfast and lunch. Now, she'd have to swallow her pride and ask Dylan to share his meal.

“Mr. Dylan,” she called out softly.

Just saying his name was enough for Dylan to get the hint as he gently tapped his fingers on the table. “Have a seat.”

Clara let out a breath of relief and flashed a grateful smile. “I’ll take you up on that, then.”

She was truly famished and had no clue how pale and frail she looked. Her lips were nearly colorless, and she'd lost a noticeable amount of weight.

As she savored the last spoonful of soup, a large hand unexpectedly landed on her forehead, freezing her in place. It was Dylan’s hand—cool to the touch, almost detached.

“You’ve got a fever.” His hand quickly retreated.

Clara, snapping back to reality, raised her own hand to check. “Yeah, maybe. I took some fever reducers, but they didn’t really help. I’ll just catch some sleep later.”

Her voice was raspy, lacking energy. Dylan’s gaze drifted to her neck, where a bruise crept from her back, dark and purple.

“Did you get hurt?”

Indeed, Clara had been injured. The first night she arrived in North Ashford, she’d taken a hit from a rake, leaving her back painfully sore for days. When she glanced in the mirror after a shower last night, her back was covered in alarming bruises.

“Clara, once you’re done eating, get some rest.”

“Alright.”

As she watched him walk away, Clara realized he wasn’t as standoffish as she’d thought.

She hadn’t had the chance to enjoy a bath the night before, so after eating, she took a half-hour rest, grabbed the robe provided, and headed to the hot spring pool recommended by the staff. They’d promised it would make her skin feel silky smooth.

The pool was vast, over a hundred square feet, enveloped in a thick mist that blurred everything. A subtle fragrance lingered in the air as she entered.

It was surprising that such a gem hadn’t been turned into a commercial hot spring hotel—surely it would rake in profits.

She spent about ten minutes floating in the hot spring and then leaned against the edge. The warmth flushed her cheeks.