RankNovelChapter 142
Colton was Quinn's ever-loyal sidekick and was always ready to believe whatever she said. Now he felt a pang of
sympathy for her. "Quinn, I'll figure something out. Worst case, I'll confront Clara and make her confess, then
ensure she
disappears."
Quinn's eyes lit up as she sniffled and said, "Colton, | knew you were the one who truly cared about me."
A warm feeling spread through Colton, making him smile. "If Simon ever lets you down, you know I'm here for
you."
Quinn didn't give it much weight, fully aware that Simon's social standing was way above Colton's. Besides, she
occasionally spotted the mysterious and
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sophisticated Dylan at the Ferguson family events. If she played her cards right, maybe Dylan would fall for her.
After leaving, Simon couldn't shake an uneasy feeling. He found himself driving to the asylum where Clara was,
but he couldn't bring himself to go in.
He kept replaying the aufrom the evening, growing more chilled each tbecause he recognized the voice
of the doctor involved.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and quickly tracked down Dr. Gribble's home. He
headed there immediately.
Dr. Gribble had been on edge all day, waiting for any news about Clara. Instead, he was taken aback when a
group of bodyguards showed up.
Before he could say anything, they handed him a check for three million dollars, telling him it was to help him
relocate abroad.
Dr. Gribble's eyes widened, assuming Clara had arranged it, and he quickly left with his wife.
When Simon arrived, he found no one. He swung by the hospital again but still cup empty. Dr. Gribble had
vanished completely.
Unable to find anyone, Simon began to doubt the authenticity of the situation. Was the voice recording
manipulated?
He handed the recording over to an expert, who soon confirmed, "Quinn's voice hasn't been altered. There are
no signs of tampering. If you're still doubtful, you should track down this doctor."
Simon hung up and tried calling Clara again, eager to hear her voice.
Clara's phone rang, but she was in the bathroom, cleaning up. Her clothes were stained and needed changing.
Dylan noticed the flashing screen on her phone, saw the caller ID, and turned it off.
Simon tried calling several more times, but no one picked up.
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Ten minutes later, Clara limped out of the bathroom. Her legs, hands, and arms were covered in wounds. She
couldn't get them wet or stay in the bathroom too long.
It wasn't her first tin Dylan's bathroom; she had accepted her role as a temporary sleep aid and now felt at
ease.
She picked up her phone, saw Simon's missed calls, and furrowed her brow; she considered calling back until
Dylan's voice broke her concentration.
"I'm going to sleep."
Clara immediately set the phone down. "Alright, Mr. Dylan, guess it's tfor this sleep aid to do its thing."
Dylan, already showered, looked at her face, his Adam's apple moving as he then looked away.
Clara heard him murmur softly, "Not just a sleep aid."
What? What did that mean?
She didn't know and thought it best not to ask.
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