Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 617

Clara’s brow furrowed, that familiar knot of worry tightening in her chest. She liked to think she understood him—sometimes his silence felt less like calm, more like the warning before a storm.

But would her leaving really make him that angry?

His eyes flashed through her mind on a loop, making her uneasy. She didn’t dare gamble on what he’d do. If she set foot back in Dylan’s territory, she’d be walking right into a showdown she couldn’t win.

So, she stuck to her plan: disappear to another city, lay low until news broke that Dylan had married Tara, and then maybe—just maybe—she’d come back to the Capital.

She took a deep breath. “Don’t tell anyone where I’m going. I’ll head to the next city. Once I’m settled, I’ll let you know.”

Ryan’s voice wavered. “So you’re not coming back to the Capital for a while?”

Clara was beyond exhausted but still managed to lean down and gently coax Emily to eat some chocolate.

Emily barely had the strength to chew, but she forced herself. She wasn’t ready to give up.

Clara finally answered Ryan. “I won’t be back for at least a year. When Dylan gets married, let me know.”

Ryan’s eyes instantly reddened. “So that’s it? I’m just never going to see you again? Clara, I shouldn’t have accused you of wanting the Bradford family money. I was wrong. You can have it—everything. Can’t we just go back to how things were?”

He finally said what had been weighing on him.

All this time apart, he’d been stewing over why he cared so much about the inheritance. If she really wanted it, he could just give it to her. It wasn’t like having it made him happy anyway. Honestly, just being around Clara—even as her sidekick—felt better than anything else.

Clara leaned back, her voice rough and tired.

She didn’t bother to answer, but there was a sense of relief. Ryan could handle the company on his own, anyway. She’d been away from the Bradford Group for a while, and things were still running smoothly.

As Ryan drove, he wanted to say more, but when he saw Clara’s eyes closed in the rearview mirror, he knew she was completely wiped out.

He pressed the gas pedal and kept quiet.

Four hours later, they finally pulled into the next city.

Clara didn’t dare check into a fancy hotel—too easy to track. Instead, she picked a run-down motel that didn’t care much about IDs.

Ryan stared at the peeling paint and grimy windows, panic written all over his face. “Let me book you somewhere nicer with my ID,” he offered.

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