Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

She stood frozen at the edge of the kitchen, staring through the sliding glass door, thinking it over for several minutes. There was really no point in making herself suffer more than she already was.

Seriously, what was the use in pushing through the pain? Her stomach was cramping so badly she could barely breathe, sweat beading on her forehead.

Eventually, she shuffled over to the coffee table and dropped into the armchair, reaching for a warm piece of bread. She started nibbling, slow and mechanical.

She'd only managed a couple of bites before she spotted her household registration booklet sitting in the corner of the table. Her hand paused, midair. She glanced at Dylan.

He didn't look up, just said, “Finish eating. Then we'll go to the registry office." Clara's grip tightened so hard on the bread, it squished out of shape.

The moment she'd walked in and seen Dylan, she almost convinced herself that everything wild from the night before had just been a dream. But now-hearing that she knew it wasn't.

This was reality.

Did Dylan actually care about her?

She took a few more tiny bites, waiting for the pain in her stomach to fade before finally asking, "Do you like me, Mr. Dylan?"

Dylan turned a page in his book, his tone flat. "What do you think?"

"No." She answered fast, maybe too fast. "If you liked me, you wouldn't act like this."

She didn't even know what real love should look like. She knew she'd loved Z- but their love had always been a little twisted, the kind of thing most people would never understand.

"Then I don't like you." He said it without looking away from the page, fingers still resting lightly on the paper, as if nothing she said mattered.

Clara's chewing slowed. Something Simon once said floated through her mind- hadn't he told her she looked like Shelly, the girl who'd died?

Maybe Dylan didn't like her at all. Maybe he just liked her face, because it reminded him of someone else. No one wants to be someone's replacement.

She looked over, her stomach turning. "Am I just a stand-in for someone, Mr. Dylan?"

His lashes fluttered. He set the book aside and stood up. "Are you finished eating?"

If she was, then it was time to go register the marriage.

Clara frowned, disbelief flickering across her face. Was Dylan actually serious about this?

Was he really going to marry her?

The bread in her hand suddenly felt too hot to hold, as if she'd picked up a burning coal. She ducked her head, Pring to keep eating, trying to

herself time.

All the while, her thoughts spun. She couldn't marry Dylan. That would mess up everything.

If she did, what would that make her when it came to Z? A woman who just walked away, tossed people aside.

Her chest ached at the thought of Z. She'd given him a bracelet, a ring, whispered

so many sweet words-never imagining it would end like this.noveldrama

Z was delicate, easy to hurt. If he ever found out, she couldn't even guess what he'd do.

She remembered how devastated he'd been every time she tried to break up with him-he'd even stood at the edge of a cliff once.

Just a few nights ago, when she'd made up her mind to leave quietly, her heart hadn't felt this heavy. But right now, it hurt in a way she couldn't describe.

She set the bread down. She couldn't take another bite.

From Dylan's point of view, she probably looked lost and miserable, not even wanting to talk.

He glanced away, then asked again, "Are you done eating?"

Clara blinked, pulled back to reality. She put down the half-eaten bread. "Mr. Dylan, I can't marry you. How about you just help me leave the country?"

Ine?

She knew—leaving him would hurt, but not as much as marrying someone else. If she disappeared, maybe he could still find her. But marriage? That was betrayal.

Dylan rolled his wheelchair over, his face looking paler than before.

Clara thought maybe he was going to let her go. But the next second, a group of men in black suits appeared behind her, lined up like shadows.

Her eyes went wide. "Are you really going to force me?"

The registry office always asked if both people were willing. Anyone could see she wasn't. There was no way they'd let this go through.

But she'd underestimated Dylan. When she was practically carried to the car,

Aiden, sitting up front, turned and said, "Everything's ready, sir."

So as long as the car got to the registry office, she'd really be married off to Dylan.

How did it come to this? It felt unreal-like she'd stumbled right into someone else's nightmare.