PopularNovelChapter 246
Clara strolled into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and picked out a few ingredients without much thought before
diving into meal prep. Her mind drifted to Z's
predicament, and in her distraction, she nicked her finger. It was just a tiny cut, but it bled more than you'd
expect.
She quickly pulled herself together, determined to finish cooking. Afterward, she reached for a bottle and shook
out two pills. What Clara didn't realize was that the kitchen door was cleverly designed-opaque from the inside
but almost see- through from the outside, making her every move a spectacle for anyone outside.
Carrying a few dishes to the table, she flashed a smile at him. "Dinner's ready, Mr. Dylan."
Dylan slowly closed the file he was reading and maneuvered his wheelchair to the table. Clara served him some
food and poured a bowl of soup.
But Dylan didn't reach for it. His gaze lingered on the soup for a few seconds before his lashes fluttered down.
"You've hurt your hand; you should feed me."
Clara glanced at his hand. Wasn't he just holding a pen a moment ago? But she kept her questions to herself and
carefully brought a spoonful of soup to his lips.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt
Dylan looked up, giving her a sidelong glance. Clara forced an awkward smile, "Go on, my cooking's not bad, you
know."
He gazed at her intently before lowering his head and finishing the soup in one go. "Not bad at all."
Clara exhaled, relieved. "Glad you like it."
After feeding him a small bowl of soup, she was about to end the phone call she had kept active, aware that
Lincoln was listening in. Now, he should be content.
She planned to cclean to Dylan once the call was over, but suddenly, Dylan collapsed.
Clara's heart skipped a beat, and she leapt from her chair. "Mr. Dylan?!"
Lincoln's voice crackled through the phone, laughing, "Clara, you really thought I'd use a slow-acting poison? Just
one sip of that poison, and he's done for. You're finished!"
Clara quickly hung up. She had swapped the pills on her way over; she wouldn't ever actually poison Dylan. She
was just putting on a show for Lincoln, knowing he was eavesdropping.
Kneeling beside Dylan, she threw caution to the wind and started CPR. They were just vitamins—why did Dylan
faint?! Her forehead gleamed with sweat, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally cto.
Clara let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, her eyes misty. "Mr. Dylan, don't scarelike that."
Dylan rubbed his forehead, his voice weak. "I haven't eaten all day. Probably low blood sugar."
Clara was so frustrated she could scream. Her teeth clenched, cheeks flushed with frustration, she didn't know
what to say, her body trembling slightly.
But Dylan's calm demeanor suggested he was clueless about what just happened. He even touched the corner of
his mouth, asking nonchalantly, "What were you doing?"
Clara, still flustered, blushed with embarrassment. "I saw you faint and gave you CPR."
Dylan's eyes took on an odd look as they swept over her. Remembering his dislike for close contact with women,
Clara quickly promised, "I didn't mean to; | was just panicking. Mr. Dylan, you've got to believe me."
Dylan turned away, "Get out, | don't want to see you."
He seemed disgusted, as if she'd crossed a line. Clara felt a chill run through her. Last time, he'd misunderstood
her during a business meeting, and now this-she felt like she couldn't clear her nno matter what.
She opened her mouth, hesitated, and finally said, "I have a boyfriend. | have no other intentions toward you, Mr.
Dylan."
"Who's seen your boyfriend? How does anyone know if you're telling the truth?"
Clara was momentarily speechless, thinking of Z possibly suffering under Lincoln's control. She wanted to tell
Dylan everything, but now he seemed to loathe her.
Taking a deep breath, she realized Lincoln thought Dylan was dead and might make a move soon. Once Dylan
acted, Lincoln wouldn't have much tleft.
She decided to start by keeping tabs on Lincoln and finding out where Z was held. Clara headed straight for the
door, changed her shoes, and left.
Dylan watched her hasty departure, reaching out to touch a lush potted plant beside him. Aiden slowly stepped
out from the shadows, hesitating before speaking.
"Boss, do you really have to mess with her like that?" It was almost like watching a cat toy with a mouse.
Dylan paused, his lashes lowering. "You think I'm being too harsh?"
Not exactly, but... the humor seems a bit dark, not fitting his image. Knowing Clara had swapped the pills and
still pretending to faint-he'd scared her into showing her true self.
Dylan continued to toy with the plant, his tone indifferent, "This is who | really am." Ever since she lost her
memory, she's been so easy to mislead, so entertaining. Before, she'd see through these tricks in an instant. He
should thank those who caused her to lose her memory.
Visit our social media platform to read fascinating stories every day and connect with the community!
