Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara was crouched on the floor, gathering scattered things, when she spoke up,

her tone steady. "You could give him the world and he still wouldn't be happy. But with me? Even if I treat him badly, he smiles. That's what love is-someone giving, someone willing to take it. I thought you'd figured that out by now."

Tara's tears fell silently, one after another.

The old lady watched her, heart aching. Tara should've been radiant, but because of something she herself had said years ago, Tara had grown stubborn and closed off.

"Tara, listen to me," the old lady said softly. "Take those shares. Go abroad. Start fresh wherever you want. You still have a chance at happiness."

But before she could finish, flames erupted outside the door, thick with the stench of gasoline and turpentine.

Clara jumped up and tried the door, only to find it locked tight from the outside.

She turned to Tara in disbelief. "Is this what you want? To go down together?"

Tara's face went pale. She rushed at the door, rattling the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

She shoved Clara aside, her face twisted with rage. "This is all you, isn't it? You want me dead so you and Dylan can be together, no guilt at all! And the old lady too-get rid of us both, and no one stands in your way!"

Her eyes were wild and red, but there was no time to argue. The air was thick with toxic smoke.

Clara covered her nose, ignoring Tara's accusations, and hurried to the old lady. "Hold this over your face," she said, tearing a strip from her shirt and handing it over. "Don't breathe too deep. The air's bad."

The fire spread fast; the ceiling was already burning. Outside, monks in brown robes-volunteers-tried to douse the flames, but their buckets of water weren't nearly enough.

Tara started shouting, pounding on the walls. "Help! Is anyone out there? Help us!"

The old lady buckled, legs giving out as the smoke thickened. Clara caught her, steadying her as best she could. "Breathe slow," she urged, pressing the cloth over the old lady's nose and mouth.

Through watering eyes, the old lady looked at Clara, struck by how calm she remained. Maybe Dylan was right about her...

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Tara, still by the door, saw someone smash open a window from the outside. She bolted for the opening.

But escaping wasn't enough for her. She grabbed a burning curtain and hurled it back toward Clara and the old lady, rage twisting her features. Let them burn— then she could tell Dylan it was Clara who set the fire.

Her mind spun with hatred. It had to be Clara behind all this-she wanted Tara dead, out of the way, so she could have Dylan all to herself.

Outside, Tara threw more flammable junk back through the window, trying to block the only exit.

Clara, holding on to the old lady, tried to get them both to the opening, but a wall of fire shot up, forcing her to crouch low.

The flames grew fiercer. The old lady, exhausted, sank to the floor. "We have to go now," Clara said urgently.

The old lady was barely conscious, eyes streaming from the smoke. She loosened her grip on Clara's hand. "Go. Leave me."

"No way." Clara hauled her up again. "We're doing this together."

The old lady shook her head, voice weak. "It doesn't matter. I know who set the

fire. After all these years, nothing changes. My whole life, I tried to warm his heart, but it was always cold."

Clara tried to grab her again, but saw flames licking at the old lady's skirt. Quickly, she slapped them out.

Summoning strength fromnoveldrama

somewhere deep, the old lady clutched Clara's hand tight. "You swore to Buddha, remember? This is all I ask. I know I was never your favorite, but for Dylan's sake promise me you'll be good to him."

Clara's heart twisted. “I promise. But I'm not leaving you here."

The old lady shook her head, voice fading. "I've lived long enough. Go. If you die, Dylan will never recover. I thought understood him, but

truly get it now. We both k

crashing into the same wall. Maybe he'll have better luck than me. Please, go."

She pushed Clara's hand away, flames catching Clara's fingertips. Instinct took over-Clara tried to help again, but a burning beam crashed down, almost hitting the old lady.

Eyes squeezed shut, the old lady waved her off. "Go..." Clara clenched her jaw and kicked aside a flaming beam. The old lady looked up, startled by her strength.

Without a second thought, Clara bent down and lifted the old lady in her arms. The smoke was so thick she could barely see, but she aimed for the gap Tara had escaped through, kicking another burning post clear.

With a crash, the debris blocking their path finally gave way.

The old lady's heart pounded-Clara was so much stronger than she looked.

Taking a deep breath, Clara ran for the opening, carrying the old lady.

She wasn't about to let the one person in the Ferguson family who truly cared about Dylan die tonight.

She wouldn't let him be alone again.