Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

After Aiden slid behind the wheel, he checked the rearview mirror and did a double take. For once, Mr. Ferguson hadn't done his shirt all the way up-two buttons were left open at the top, leaving a hint of collarbone exposed.

Normally, Mr. Ferguson was all about being buttoned up, literally. Every single button, all the way to his throat, as if daring anyone to look at him for too long. Like he'd claw your eyes out if you stared.

But today? Something felt off.

Aiden leaned in for a better look and finally spotted it—a faint mark on Dylan's skin, barely there but definitely not his imagination.

So... did those two actually sleep together last night or not? The suspense was killing him.

He pulled the car up in front of the restaurant, where both the Fergusons and the Warrens were meeting for dinner. Mrs. Ferguson herself had set this up. Not showing up wasn't an option-if Dylan bailed, Mrs. Ferguson's reputation in their circle would take a serious hit.

After parking, Aiden helped Dylan into his wheelchair and couldn't help but mention, "Richard will probably be here too."

Richard was the one running the Warren family now.

Dylan just gave a quiet "Mm."

They made their way into the private dining room; almost everyone was already there.

Tara spotted Dylan first and immediately stood up, waving him over. "Dylan, sit here with me."

Tonight, the Warrens were just Tara, Richard, and Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren smiled at Mrs. Ferguson, then looked at Dylan. "Is Dylan still in physical therapy? Maybe Tara should help take care of him?"

Tara's gaze dropped to Dylan's legs, full of sympathy. If it hadn't been for Clara, how could someone as perfect as Dylan have ended up like this? But no matter what, in her eyes, he was still flawless.

Mrs. Ferguson gave Aiden a pointed look, silently telling him to wheel Dylan over to Tara.

Aiden didn't dare disobey.

Once the wheelchair was in place, Tara was quick to answer, “Grandma, rehab is tough. Dylan's used to doing it on his own. I don't want to bother him.”

No man liked showing weakness-least of all someone like Dylan.

Mrs. Ferguson nodded, clearly pleased. Tara really did think of everything.

Across the table, Dylan's eyes met Richard's Richard narrowed his eyes, catching sight of the faint mark on Dylan's collarbone. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say, "What can I do?"

Backed by his entire family, Richard couldn't exactly go against all of them just to side with Dylan. If he tried, he'd never hear the end of it. Tonight, Dylan was on hisnoveldrama

own.

Dylan looked down, staring at the glass in front of him.

"I've already... Clara and I—” he started, but Tara cut in before he could finish.

"Dylan, I don't know why you ended up marrying Clara, but everyone in both our families knows about us. You promised me you'd marry me. When those rumors about you and Shefly started, I thought maybe I you'd changed your mind. But after she died, I thought maybe I had another chance. When I told you how I felt, you said, 'Let's see in two years.' If you didn't care about me at all, you shouldn't have made those promises when we were kids, and you should've been more direct two years ago. I've always had to be the best at everything, Dylan, and I want everyone to know I'm the one who deserves to be your wife."

Her words hung in the air, making whatever Dylan had with Clara seem completely insignificant.

After all, to everyone else, Dylan and Clara weren't childhood sweethearts. They hadn't made secret promises. Even as adults, they barely interacted.

1.n

Tara's lips curted into a small smile. "I know Clara's eyes look a little like Shelly's. That's why you noticed her, right? Every year, you go out to Shelly grave, and every time you come back, it takes you days to get back to normal. I've seen it. But

Dylan, even if you just want a

stand-in, I'm still the best choice."

At this point, even if Dylan swore he loved Clara, no one would believe him. They'd just assume he was transferring his feelings for Shelly onto Clara.

Clara was just lucky-luck that wouldn't last forever.

Mrs. Ferguson was obviously very satisfied with Tara's determination. Tara never bothered to hide how she felt about Dylan, and Mrs. Ferguson liked that.

She smiled, catching Mrs. Warren's eye. Both women looked pleased.

Nobody at that table spared Clara a second thought. Getting married was easy enough to undo—the only thing that mattered was what Dylan wanted.

If he agreed, they could sign the divorce papers this afternoon and have Tara moved in by dinnertime.