Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 856

Back in the present, Nicholas was all smiles, sitting beside Scarlette as they watched a movie together.

Of course, he couldn’t resist texting Richard:

[Single and bitter, huh? Admit it—you just hate seeing me this happy.]

Richard stared at the smug message, rubbing his forehead. Love really does make people stupid. Every last one of them. He shook his head and let out a short laugh. Oh well.

He was about to toss his phone aside when a notification popped up—Dylan had posted on social media.

That was rare. Dylan hardly ever posted. When he did, it was always about Clara.

This time, it was a picture of some fancy dessert on a table. If you looked closely, you could see Clara’s hand in the frame, unwrapping an elegant box. It was obvious, but subtle—definitely intentional.

Still stinging from Nicholas’s gloating text, Richard couldn’t help but comment on Dylan’s post:

—Lame.

Dylan saw the comment, but didn’t bother replying. Instead, he glanced up at Clara.

She’d just finished unwrapping the dessert and set a spoon down next to his hand. “Aiden’s in the hospital. You should take it easy, too,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “And with your hand like that, you’re not allowed to mess around with anything else until it heals. Dylan, I’ve warned you enough. You have to listen to me, okay?”

If she really got mad, the consequences wouldn’t be pretty.

He just made a low sound in agreement and picked up the spoon, eating slowly.

Clara sat right next to him, resting her chin in her hand, quietly watching him for a while. Then, softly, she asked, “Want to go for a walk by the river? I’ll go with you.”

Before Dylan could answer, his phone buzzed with a new message.

He ignored it at first, nodding to her with his eyes half-closed. But then it buzzed again. And again. Frowning, he finally picked up his phone. The moment he read the messages, his whole expression changed—cold and hard in an instant.

Clara was beside him and felt his entire vibe shift, as if the air itself had frozen.

“Dylan?” she called, worried.

She barely got the name out before he shot to his feet and strode toward the door.

Clara scrambled after him. “Aiden’s not here to drive you, your hand’s injured—where are you even going? Let me come with you!”

“Megan?” Clara’s voice shook with disbelief, but she quickly steadied herself.

Megan slowly pulled down her mask. Underneath, her face was almost unrecognizable, covered in scars, terrifying except for her eyes—those were exactly the same as before.

Clara’s heart clenched. The wounds looked fresh, like she’d been dragged over rocks. Megan must have suffered so much after the fall.

She never said Dylan’s name, but every word pointed right at him.

Clara pressed her lips together, thinking of Dylan, and sighed. “Megan, I checked. They weren’t there.”

Megan walked a few steps away, pulling her mask back on.

Clara stood frozen in place, a creeping sense of dread growing stronger in her chest with every passing second.