Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 639

Clara stayed in bed until seven, barely noticing when someone knocked softly on her door. One of the housekeepers called out, “Would you like something to eat, Ms. Clara?”

She just felt irritated, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

This time, the housekeeper sounded more anxious. “Ma’am, please, you should have a little something. Sir asked us to take care of you before he left. We made some soup—you don’t look well, and a bowl of soup might help.”

With a sigh, Clara finally dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection; she looked awful—her skin was pale, dark circles shadowed her eyes. No wonder Dylan had told her to rest.

She splashed her face with cold water, but it did nothing to ease the restless frustration buzzing inside her.

Steeling herself, she opened her bedroom door.

The housekeeper’s eyes immediately brightened with relief.

Clara realized she couldn’t keep running herself into the ground. She needed to take care of herself first—everything else could wait.

She went downstairs and managed a few bites. Heading back upstairs, she paused outside the guest room, but a man in a black suit stepped out and silently blocked her way, gesturing that she was expected to sleep in the master bedroom.

Clara’s face darkened. Without a word, she turned and went into the master bedroom, closing the door behind her with a loud slam.

She lay down, but sleep wouldn’t come. All she could hear was Z’s voice, echoing in her mind.

Didn’t I tell you—if you ever leave me, I’ll die?

Her chest ached, the pain so sharp she could hardly breathe. She curled into herself, hoping the feeling would pass, but the heaviness just lingered, pressing down on her until well past midnight.

Finally, she got up for a glass of cold water and opened the window, staring out into the darkness.

She’d given up on the idea of escape a long time ago, not after her last failed attempt. Now, all she could do was wonder how long he’d keep her here this time.

*

At the temple, Mrs. Ferguson was up at dawn. Guided by the monks, she washed and prepared for morning prayers.

Everything was scheduled down to the minute—each step performed with ritual precision.

But after waiting more than ten minutes, there was still no sign of Dylan. She leaned over to the person beside her and whispered, “Did Dylan oversleep? Has anyone checked on him?”

A monk replied quietly, “Sir left the temple early this morning.”

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