Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 146

Chapter 146

Walter was the Mr. Ferguson the bodyguards were talking about. Clara had the urge to call Dylan, but just as she

pulled out her phone, the bodyguard gently pushed it back down, still maintaining a polite demeanor.

"Mr. Ferguson won't harm you, Miss Clara. He just wants to discuss a few things," he assured her.

Reluctantly, Clara put her phone away. As she settled into the car, her mind was buzzing with thoughts, quickly

piecing together why Mr. Ferguson might want to see her. Walter was a man who had navigated life's storms with

grace. Even after stepping down from his influential position, people still clamored for an audience with him. Yet,

many had never seen him in person.

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Clara arrived at the Ferguson family's storied mansion, which boasted a history as rich as its architecture.

Legend had it that dignitaries of old would pass by here on their way to court. In the Capital, homes like this

were beyond mere monetary value, inhabited only by the most powerful.

As the grand iron gates swung open, Clara noticed the numerous bodyguards patrolling the grounds. The car

journeyed another ten minutes before coming to a stop in front of the main house.

"Miss Clara, please step out," the bodyguard said, his manner unchanged, seemingly oblivious to the whispers

surrounding her.

Once out, she was ushered into the grand hall and up to a second-floor study. The room was expansive, about

two hundred square meters, filled with the finest rosewood, emitting a gentle aroma. At the center stood a desk

of rare golden rosewood, as valuable as it was impressive.

The setting could easily unsettle anyone, but as Clara laid eyes on the elderly man practicing calligraphy behind

the desk, she found a surprising sense of calm. The door quietly closed behind her, leaving just her and Walter.

Clad in a tailored suit, Walter methodically laid down his pen and washed his hands in a basin nearby. Clara

bowed her head respectfully, "Walter."

Walter's expression remained steady as he meticulously dried his hands with a towel. Clara didn't rush to ask

why she'd been summoned, choosing instead to stand silently, as if in a quiet standoff.

Her poise seemed to catch the old man off guard, prompting him to set the towel aside and dive straight into the

matter at hand.

"Dylan is the son I hold in the highest regard," he stated. Even if you grouped all the younger members of the

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Ferguson family, they wouldn't hold a candle to Dylan.

Clara's demeanor grew even more respectful. "Mr. Dylan is truly exceptional, a giant in the business world."

Walter narrowed his eyes slightly, giving her a scrutinizing look. "Young lady, there's no need for flattery here."

Clara's palms were slick with sweat as she quickly looked up. "Sir, | understand your concerns, but assure you, |

have no intentions towards Mr. Dylan. You might have misunderstood."

Feeling she needed to elaborate, she continued, "I'm in Palm Bay because Jackson askedto be there. Mr

Dylan suffers from severe insomnia, which impacts his health. It seems my presence has a calming effect on

him, sort of like a natural sleep aid, but there has never been anything improper between us. You can verify this

with Mr. Dylan himself."

Her words were delivered with utmost sincerity and straightforwardness.