Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

As Clara left, she felt a noticeable lightness in her step. Back home, she settled

on the couch, wide awake. Instead of tossing and turning, she grabbed her laptop to get some work done.

Then, the doorbell rang, breaking the quiet. With a hint of annoyance, she went to see who it was and found Eli standing there. His features were delicate, almost feminine, but now marred with serious injuries. He glanced up at her, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly composed himself.

"Ms. Bradford, my car crashed downstairs."

Clara was startled but stepped aside to let him in. She had a first aid kit ready, and since Eli was one of her artists now, she couldn't risk him getting disfigured— he was a key part of her business.

Eli bore scratches on his face and his arm was streaked with blood. Clara grabbed the first aid kit and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch.

To her surprise, he plopped down on the floor instead, tearing away the fabric on his arm. "I'll sit here; I'm too dirty to ruin your couch."

Clara opened the kit and began cleaning his wounds, stopping the bleeding. Still curious, she asked, "How did you find my place? Was the car badly damaged? Where's your brother?"noveldrama

"He wasn't in the car. It's been towed, nothing serious. These are just minor injuries. I got your address from someone and thought I'd drop by."

Once she finished with his arm, she moved on to his fingers. Eli's striking looks contrasted with his calloused fingertips, hinting at a history with weapons. But given his recent move from the mountains, she wondered how he encountered such things.

After ten minutes of bandaging, Clara sighed in relief. Eli, however, didn't budge. He leaned against the wall and asked, "Ms. Bradford, can I crash here tonight?"

Typically, it wouldn't be appropriate for a man and woman to share a space like this, and Clara knew she should refuse. But seeing him so worn out, she couldn't bring herself to say no.

"Alright, you can sleep on the couch."

She cleared her laptop from the coffee table and retreated to her bedroom. Alone

in the living room, Eli rubbed his eyes, finally letting his exhaustion show.

His phone buzzed-it was Seth. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Eli, I told you to stay away from her. That guy is dangerous. Do you really think he won't kill you?"

Eli felt a pang in his chest, his hand clenching at his side. "Are you just going to let him push you around? That guy's insane. I only wanted to see Clara. What's his problem?"

Seth relaxed, knowing Eli was safe. "Don't argue with a madman. Keep quiet in front of Clara. She doesn't remember anything, and it puts us at a disadvantage. If he decides to act, none of us will make it out."

Eli considered lighting a cigarette but held back, respecting Clara's space. "Relax, I'm with Clara now. The people after me have backed off; she's safe."

The lunatic clearly didn't want Clara to suspect anything.

Seth paused, then warned again, "Don't do this again. It's not worth your life. He's only holding back because of Clara."

Eli winced as pain flared in his chest. Those people hadn't held back, wishing he'd

be laid up in the hospital for months. "Once Clara gets her memory back, I'll make sure that lunatic pays."

Clara wasn't his property, after all.

Seth was exasperated on the other end, rubbing his temples. "You need to

change your reckless attitude. From what I hear, Clara and he get along since she lost her memory."

"It's all a show."

Eli's eyes darkened as he glanced at the bandage on his arm. "Everything I've endured lately, I'll make sure he pays it back."

Clara slept soundly but dreamt of a beautiful, Western-style estate. The gardens and fountains were enchanting. When she woke, she remembered it vividly, wondering if it was linked to her past.

Her instincts told her the estate was significant.

The next morning, she headed to the office, busy until lunchtime when an unexpected email popped up on her screen. It was a scheduled email from her past self, sent years ago.

It contained a single picture and a brief sentence: "Are you happy with your mentor now?"

The picture was of the estate from her dream. Although not very clear, she immediately recognized it. There was that word again-mentor.

This email was a message from her own past. She rubbed her temples, uploading the image online, hoping to locate the estate.

But nothing matched.

Finally, she sent the picture to Z. He'd been with Nightshade for ages, surely he'd know something.

But there was no response.