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Forbidden Captivity: Too Late to Escape

Chapter 349
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Chapter 349

Clara felt like she had been lost in sleep forever. Her dreams were a chaotic swirl of disconnected images, like a

puzzle that refused to fit together. The final scene lingered in a dark cave, pierced by a single beam of light

slicing down from above, creating a beautiful but unnoticed display.

In this dream, she was just a little girl, around seven or eight, softly tapping a boy's cheek, pleading with him to

stay awake. His injuries were severe, and he was getting colder by the minute. By the second day of being

trapped, in a desperate move, she bit her wrist and let him drink her blood, hoping to save him. It was amazing

that a child so young could cup with such a way to help.

For two days, she kept feeding him her blood until finally, the boy woke up in her arms. Her face was ghostly

pale, but she held on to his face with both hands. "Are you okay? You scared me. Don't worry, someone will come

to save us.’

"What did you give me?" he asked.

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"Blood. It can save lives when it counts," she replied, showing him her injured wrist and then, a bit embarrassed,

she scratched her cheek, "You've still got a fever, so try to rest a bit more."

The boy stayed silent, an intense vibe radiating from him. Clara tried desperately to see his face clearly in the

dream but never could. Everything was so muddled, and she didn't even know how they were eventually

rescued.

She jolted awake, locking eyes with Simon, whose gaze was full of concern. She tried to rub her head, but he

gently caught her wrist. "You're all bruised up; don't move."

Clara wanted to speak, but her throat felt raw, like it was being squeezed shut, and no words cout. Simon

picked up a glass of water from the bedside and held it to her lips.

"You might not have heard, but they found Lincoln's body, and the Ferguson family is in chaos. Grandpa's having

it thoroughly investigated, and Dylan's swamped with work. Clara, how did you end up on the road, all beat up?

Who did this to you?"

She drank half the glass quietly, her parched lips finally finding srelief. Every little movement sent sharp

pain through her body, like being cut by a thousand tiny knives. She also wondered why Simon had been there;

did he really not know who had hurt her? She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine

concern.

This guy, though a bit naive, never seemed to have a mean bone in his body. She closed her eyes, exhaustion

creasing her face. "Simon, do you know why Mr. Dylan is so fond of your sister?"

Over in the shadows where Clara couldn't see, Simon raised an eyebrow, something unreadable flashing in his

eyes before he returned to his usual expression. "Emily was taken in by Dylan. Without him, she wouldn't have

made it. She depends on him, and Dylan really cares for her. Out of everyone in the Ferguson family, she's his

priority."

But Clara distinctly remembered Eden saying that Dylan needed her. What was really going on between them?

Did Dylan have something on her? As the powerful CEO of Ferguson Corporation, Dylan wasn't someone to be

easily manipulated. If anyone had leverage over him, his first move would be to eliminate the threat. Yet, he let

Eden cross the line again and again.

"Clara, if it involves my sister, maybe it's best to let it go. She's pushed others around before, and Dylan just

paid them off to make them leave."

Clara managed a weak smile. She never thought she was special to Dylan and understood that his previous

actions were just him sticking to his principles. She took a deep breath, but it only made her lungs ache. Simon

helped her lie back down. "The chef made sfood for you. Try to eat a bit. | also told Ryan you're taking some

tfor yourself, so he won't bother you."

She nodded, eyes closed, feeling completely worn out, especially after those bizarre dreams that left every cell

in her body tired. Simon sat in the living room for a while, thinking, before heading to the kitchen to ask the chef

to prepare something nutritious.

When Clara woke up again, it was already midday. She forced herself out of bed, washed up, and tried to drink

snourishing soup. But after just a few sips, she couldn't hold it in and grabbed the trash can, throwing up.

The vivid dream of blood haunted her, making her feel nauseous at the sight of food. She hadn't eaten much,

and eventually, only bile cup.

Simon stood by the bathroom door, watching her struggle, and suddenly asked, "Could you be pregnant?"