Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run
Chapter 105

It had to be about Shelly's tragic fate. Clara couldn't remember anything, and had no way to defend herself. Jackson looked like he wanted to say more, but then he noticed Dylan's wheelchair already a few meters ahead and hurried to catch up.

Clara stood there, chilled to the bone. Once they were out of sight, she finally shook herself into action, determined to get to the bottom of this Dawson family business. But instead of replaceing Simon, she ran into a group of drunk men around a corner.

These guys were all big and brawny, and they immediately blocked her way. "Hey, beautiful. Why's a pretty lady like you all alone? How about hanging out with us?" one of them slurred, grinning.

Two others joined in, reaching out towards Clara, their intentions as clear as day. Clara frowned, instinctively stepping back, only to hear footsteps echoing behind her. More unfamiliar faces appeared, making a total of six men. All eyes were locked on her.

In a panic, she flung open a nearby door and found a private room beyond that could offer a potential escape. She dashed inside, running several meters until she was sure no one was following. Still puzzled, she suddenly caught Richard's voice drifting through the air.

It was odd to replace Dylan, Richard, and Jackson all at this bar tonight. Richard's voice dripped with sarcastic chill. "All these years, and you're still holding on? Maybe it's time you looked for someone new. What are you expecting from all this waiting?"

Clara strained to hear Dylan's reply. He tapped his fingers lightly on his wheelchair, his gaze distant. "She's worth it," he said.

Richard laughed, almost incredulously. "I replace her pretty ordinary, to be honest. Not sure what you see in her."

"I know her worth, and that's all that matters," Dylan replied, his voice calm but filled with a determination that was hard to fathom.

Clara was hiding behind a nearby screen, feeling frozen in place. She'd always seen Dylan as the logical, almost aloof type. Discovering he was this deeply devoted, and still waiting after seven years, was astonishing.

Realizing she had overheard too much, she turned to leave, only for the door to suddenly swing open, and there was Jackson. They collided awkwardly.

Jackson, looking sharp in a suit but clearly in a foul mood, shot her a look of disdain. "What are you doing here?" he snapped.

After dusting off his suit like it was contaminated, he grabbed Clara by the collar and hauled her over to Dylan. As they rounded the screen, Clara saw that Dylan and Richard were lounging on a black sofa.

Jackson unceremoniously tossed Clara onto an empty loveseat. He lit a cigarette, a smirk playing on his lips. "She was eavesdropping behind the screen. Neither of you noticed?"

This private room was a bit of a hideaway in the bar, and Jackson liked it for its chaotic anonymity. It was one place the Dawson family wouldn't think to replace him, otherwise, they'd be on his back about meeting the wife he'd never met. He had no intention of doing that; he'd rather hide out here in the smoke and noise.