Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara stood at the edge of the pool, the chill sinking into her bones.

She was just about to walk away when a sudden rush of air brushed past her. Instinct took over-she sidestepped, and the girl who meant to push her lost her balance and plunged headfirst into the pool.

For a moment, the girl floundered, then her shrill cries cut through the night. "Help! Help! Clara pushed me! Clara pushed me!"

The party was still in full swing, but people immediately came running. They hauled the soaking, shaking girl out of the water. She stood there, dripping and pitiful, shooting Clara a scared, accusing look before ducking behind the crowd. Someone couldn't hold back any longer and called Clara out, voice sharp.

"How could you just shove someone into the pool? What if she couldn't swim? She could've died! Are you really that heartless?"

"Clara, just leave. You're not welcome here anymore!"

"Seriously, how do you have the nerve to show up at these parties? Do you really think you belong here?"

Clara looked straight at the trembling girl. The girl's fear quickly turned to tears, and she sank to her knees, sobbing.

"Clara, I'm sorry," she wept. "I know you hated it when I chased Simon, but I'm over him now, I swear."

The crowd fell silent for a second, remembering-yeah, this girl had chased Simon once.

Clara almost laughed. She scanned the crowd but didn't spot Tara. Was this all Tara's doing? If so, her setup was painfully obvious.

Just then, Tara's voice rang out. "Clara was invited by Dylan."

The room stilled. Faces went awkward-Tara, of all people, was speaking up for Clara.

Tara shrugged off her jacket and wrapped it around the shivering girl's shoulders. "Sorry, but I'll talk to Dylan about this myself."

The girl seemed less afraid, quietly wiping her tears.

Someone couldn't help but needle, "Tara, you're okay with this? Aren't you worried she'll steal your fiancé?”

Clara let out a laugh—she couldn't help it.

The women glared. What was so funny?

Clara took a deep, steadying breath, then smiled. "Steal whose fiancé? Ms. Warren's? If I remember right, Dylan posted his marriage certificate on Instagram. Just saying, the name next to his is mine. Clara's."

For a heartbeat, everyone just stared at her, like she'd lost it.

Clara turned to Tara. "Maybe they don't know, Ms. Warren, but don't you? You and Dylan grew up together, but it seems like you don't really know him at all."

Tara's expression slipped, her smile barely holding on.

Someone snapped, "That's a lie! Mrs. Ferguson already said that certificate was just a joke! Look at yourself, Clara-Dylan would never choose you!"

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Clara traced her lips with a finger, giving a dramatic little "tsk" and flashing her sweetest fake smile. "You're right-he'd never go for me. Except when I've had a few drinks and he kisses me like he can't get enough. Honestly, I thought I was having an allergic reaction. Ms. Warren, I guess I got lucky-got the kiss you never did. Not bad, huh?"

The room went dead silent.

The socialites had never seen anyone so shameless before. But the way Clara's lips looked a little swollen, the way she said it—nobody could help but believe her.

Faces turned pale, then green, then red with anger and embarrassment.

Clara looked at Tara again. “Sorry about what you saw last night, Tara. Your future husband's not bad in that department-maybe you should be happy for me. Anyway, have a nice night."

With that, she strode off toward the hall, head high.

Behind her, Tara's hand curled into a fist, nails digging deep into her palm. Everything she'd built-her

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composure, her confidence, her perfect image-had just been ripped apart by Clara's blunt, unapologetic words.

Clara didn't let herself relax until she'd made it a hundred meters away, where she finally let her shoulders drop and sighed. These fake games were disgusting, but with a crowd like that, if she hadn't hit back hard, she'd have been their target all night.

Up on the second-floor balcony, Jackson leaned on the railing, watching it all with

a smirk.

"Dylan, your girl's got guts," he said with a low chuckle.noveldrama

Dylan just hummed, the corners of his mouth turning up in a private, satisfied

smile.