Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

If these secrets had anything to do with Clara-and if knowing them meant Clara would leave him-then this was Megan's golden opportunity.

She took a deep breath, trying to hide her excitement, and let a sly smile spread across her lips.

“Tell me,” she asked, "has Clara ever been in there?"

The man's voice was as cold as ever. "Please go back."

So Clara hadn't been there. There really was something going on with that mysterious woman who sang-something that had to be related to Clara.

Otherwise, knowing Dylan, he'd never have posted so many people to keep watch. He only ever got this paranoid when it came to Clara.

Megan could feel it: this was her chance.

She went back to the main house, barely able to hide her good mood. After dinner, she put on her most sympathetic face and asked after Clara.

"Is she still not awake? Will she be okay by tonight?" she asked the maid, eyes shining with fake tears.

"She's still asleep. Probably won't wake up until tonight," the maid sighed.

"Thank you," Megan said softly, dabbing at her eyes like she was heartbroken. "Ms. Megan, you should rest after dinner," the maid suggested.

Megan nodded. "Thank you."

After eating, she slipped off to her guest room. Her window looked out at the distant guesthouse, but it was so far away that all she could see was a faint glow from the lights-nothing else.

She leaned back against the headboard, wondering again: who was Dylan hiding there?

She'd always known Dylan had a thing for Clara. That was the whole reason she'd befriended Clara in the first place.

Lowering her lashes, Megan started piecing together everything she'd managed to wring out of Simon.

Simon had said Clara's boyfriend was dead. If only she could pin that on Dylan—if Clara believed it, those two would be over for good.

She let out a long breath, her mind spinning so fast it hurt. She flopped onto the bed, frustrated but determined.

For the next few days, she'd have to keep playing the loving best friend.

She'd been faking it for years at Moonlight—she was practically a professional. There was no way Clara would catch on.

*

Clara finally woke up the next morning.

Her fever had broken, but her head was still pounding, like it might split open.

It felt just like the time she'd woken up in Dylan's bed.

She rubbed her temples, just as the bedroom door creaked open. Megan slipped in, looking genuinely worried.

"Clara, you're awake? You scared me half to death! You still haven't told me what happened."

All the color drained from Clara's face. She was about to answer when a maid hurried in and knocked on the door.

"Ma'am, Mr. Ferguson is back."

Clara stiffened, thinking she must have misheard. Dylan, back? Why would his father let him come home?

She tried to speak, only to realize she couldn't get a word out.

The maid quickly reassured her, "The doctor said your vocal are damaged. You need to

not talk for now."

Clara nodded, immediately trying to get out of bed-she wanted to see Dylan.noveldrama

But as soon as her feet hit the floor, her legs nearly gave out. Luckily, Megan caught her just in time.

"Don't rush. I'll help you," Megan said softly.

Clara nodded and leaned on her for support.

Together, they made it to the top of the stairs just as Dylan was coming up from below.

Aiden had already been sent to the hospital, and now some unfamiliar man was following Dylan-a new assistant, maybe. The guy glanced up at Clara, his expression cool and unfriendly, but he said nothing and fettin line behind Dylan.

Despite her sore throat, Clara tried to say hello.

But Dylan just walked right past her without so much as a glance, like she wasn't even there.

Clara lowered her eyes. Richard had been right-the old man must've found

some new way to control things.

Even Megan was caught off guard by how cold Dylan was.

how cold Dylan was t

never miss a chance What was up with

today?

Still, she kept her questions to herself. This wasn't the right moment.

She'd already realized last night that Dylan's people were everywhere at Palm Bay. She had to be extra careful.

"Clara?" Megan whispered.

Clara shook her head slowly, letting her know she was okay. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting better.

Megan helped her back to bed.

Once Clara was settled, Megan finally asked, "Did something happen between you two?"

Clara pointed at her throat to show she couldn't talk.

Megan smiled gently. "I'll go see if the soup they made for you is ready."

She slipped out of the room, but as she closed the door, her eyes shone with excitement.

She hadn't imagined it-Dylan really had looked at Clara like she was a total stranger.

Nobody could fake that.

Had the Ferguson family done something to Dylan to split him and Clara up?

Was that why Clara had almost died the other night?

Megan's lips curled into a pleased smile as she hurried downstairs and pretended

to ask the maids,

"How's the soup coming along?"

But her eyes kept drifting toward the staircase, waiting for Dylan to come down.

And she didn't have to wait long.

Ten minutes later, Dylan finally appeared.

Megan wasted no time-she headed straight for him.