StartNovelChapter 280
As Clara slipped into her car seat, she felt utterly drained. A sleepless night coupled with a hectic morning had
left her mind in a haze. She couldn't shake the question swirling in her head: Who was responsible for the fire?
Could it be Dylan?
Just hours after Quinn had stirred the pot with Dylan, the Bradford family was caught in a disaster, which made
Dylan a prsuspect. Yet, Clara had crossed paths with Dylan before without incident, and he never seemed
the type to hold a grudge.
Massaging her temples, she reconsidered. Perhaps Quinn had pushed Dylan too far this time. After all, Dylan had
brought a gun into the mix, so suspicion still lingered.
Driving to Ferguson Corporation, Clara's thoughts were a tangled mess. It wasn't until she settled at her desk
that the world seemed to spin, prompting her to rest her head for a moment. But just as she was drifting off, a
cold splash jolted her awake, soaking her and her desk.
Looking up, she met Eden's smug gaze. Eden, with a triumphant grin, clutched a bucket she had snatched from a
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtjanitor. "Clara, | warned you. Every t| see you, I'll make you pay. Either quit and vanish forever, or deal with
this."
Clara caught the snickers from her coworkers, as if they were amused by her misfortune of crossing the office
diva. Wiping her face, Clara forced a smile. "Feeling better, Ms. Eden?"
Eden's face contorted with anger as she raised the bucket to strike. This girl had the nerve to taunt her! Clara
had landed her in the hospital, and today was payback time. But before the bucket could cdown, Clara
grabbed Eden's wrist and threw a potted plant at her head.
Eden, still not fully recovered from her hospital stay, went down as darkness closed in. "Clara! I'll make sure
Dylan fires you today!"
Clutching her injury, Eden's eyes burned with hatred as she glared at Clara. No, it wouldn't stop at firing. She'd
use the Ferguson family's clout to make Clara's life miserable.
Eden shot one last venomous look at Clara and stormed out, not bothering to stop by Dylan's office.
Clara, drenched, shivered at her desk. Her colleagues were stunned by her boldness in standing up to Eden.
Silence reigned in the office.
When Clara was summoned to Dylan's office, she braced for a firing. But Dylan merely inquired about the
Dawson family project.
Noticing her soaked state, he frowned, coughing slightly before asking, "What happened?"
Clara kept her silence.
Dylan wheeled closer, trying to take her hand to inspect a bleeding cut on her finger.
But Clara pulled her hand away, asking, "Is your health alright, Mr. Dylan?"
His hand paused mid-air, his gaze shifting away. "Yes."
"So, did you handle the Bradford family situation?"
His eyes flickered, momentarily broken, before he softly asked, "Do you think it was me?"
"I'm just being rationally suspicious."
Dylan started coughing again, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, his cheeks flushed, his lashes lowered,
avoiding her gaze.
Clara, growing impatient, pressed on. "Mr. Dylan, is it or isn't it? Just answer the question."
Dylan finally stopped coughing, weariness lining his features as he smirked slightly. "What if it was?"
Clara stared hard, trying to gauge if he was serious or joking.
Returning to his desk with a defeated air, he said, "Just assit was."
Clara stepped forward, frustration rising, slamming her hand on the documents he was pulling away.
"What do you mean, 'just assume'? Are our lives meaningless to you, Mr. Dylan? I'm seriously asking."
With a tearing sound, the papers ripped in half as he yanked them from her grip.
Only then did Clara notice the veins bulging on the back of his hand, as if he was wrestling with something deep
within.
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