Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run
Chapter 8

Clara felt a sharp stab of anger in her chest as she hurriedly tried to gather her documents. But she froze when she opened the last drawer.

There lay a stack of certificates, including the prestigious CPA and CFA qualifications. These were the golden tickets to Wall Street's ruthless arena, yet they were tucked away in the most unassuming corner.

Wasn't she supposed to be just a girl chasing after Simon, without any real skills?

She quickly glanced at them, not in the mood to stick around any longer. She threw a few clothes into a bag, ready to bolt.

Just then, Ryan strolled in. "Clara, are you running away again? Stop with the drama; I'm starving here."

He swiftly snatched the suitcase from her grip. "If you don't apologize to Mom, Dad, and Quinn, no one will talk to you. How long are you planning to stay away this time? Didn't you pull this stunt yesterday and come crawling back by morning? It's embarrassing, and you're the reason this family is in chaos."

As he spoke, he tossed the suitcase aside, and her carefully packed clothes spilled out.

"Do you know why everyone adores Quinn? She's kind, graceful, and a star at work. You're nowhere near her level, which is why Mom and Dad won't give you any shares. When will you start reflecting on yourself?"

Clara looked at her clothes scattered on the floor, and she'd had enough. She raised her hand and slapped him.

"Slap!"

Ryan clutched his cheek, a mark forming rapidly. He was in disbelief. "You hit me?"

Clara, who usually swallowed her pride, had actually hit him!

Ryan felt a sting of hurt for a moment. "You hit me? Really?! I'm done talking to you, Clara! Unless you're cooking for me for a year. If you're leaving, then get out of here! You'll be back soon enough, tail between your legs!"

He spun on his heel and stormed off.

As Clara dragged her suitcase downstairs, she heard Naomi's piercing voice. "My goodness, Clara, you hit your brother! You... you're impossible! Go kneel outside until we're satisfied, or we'll kick you out the hosue!"

Clara glanced toward the sofa, where Quinn was gently applying some balm to Ryan's cheek, her expression full of concern.

Ryan's eyes brimmed with gratitude, and when he looked at Clara, he huffed dramatically.

The sharp pain in Clara's chest came in waves, but she was done begging for their affection. She pulled her suitcase toward the door, her voice steady. "I don't want to stay here anyway. If there's no room for me, so be it. Enjoy your perfect little family. I'm out!"

Naomi thought she must have misheard. Her chest heaved with anger. "You... you, how did I end up with a child like you? Fine, fine, you haven't worked a day since graduation. Let's see how you make it out there. You'll be back in tears!"

Her words were met with the loud slam of the door as Clara left.

Naomi sank onto the sofa, her hand shaking around her cup of water. "I should never have had her!"

Quinn's eyes sparkled with amusement, though her voice was all concern. "Mom, don't worry. She talks tough but comes back quickly."

Ryan chimed in, "Yeah, she hit me this time. No way I'm forgiving her."

With her suitcase in tow, Clara reached the front gate. All she had was the ten grand Megan had sent her. First on her list was replaceing a place to stay.

Megan had offered her a place, but Clara felt bad about imposing for too long. She checked online for nearby rentals, aiming for something close to Ferguson Corporation. But the company was smack in the city center, and rent started at nearly twenty grand a month. Her funds wouldn't even cover that.

Renting further out meant expensive daily taxi fares.

After weighing her options, she noticed the nearby public electric scooters.

In the end, she opted for a small apartment in an older neighborhood. It was a twenty-minute scooter ride to Ferguson Corporation.

She unlocked a scooter outside the complex and decided to test it out. With no memory of her past, she wasn't sure if she could ride one, though watching others made it seem simple enough.

The little scooter wobbled along at a snail's pace, drawing honks from nearly everyone passing by.

Sweat dotted Clara's forehead as she tried to stick close to the road's edge to avoid any accidents.

Not far away, inside a sleek car, Dylan skimmed through the papers on his lap. The car stopped at a red light, and as he closed the folder and glanced outside, he spotted Clara on the roadside.

Today, Clara's hair was in a ponytail. Her skin was almost glowing in the sun. She was riding unsteadily and nearly collided with a turning car.

Dylan's gaze lingered, his fingers tensing as he heard his driver, Aiden, speak.

"Isn't that Ms. Clara? What's her game now? Didn't she refuse to ride in anything less than a three-million-dollar car before?"

Aiden was Dylan's assistant, who had recently returned from abroad. He glanced up, meeting Dylan's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Boss, let's keep our distance from that jinx, or she'll drag us down with her."