NovelFameChapter 625
She took a deep breath and called Scarlette again.
She wanted the scoop on Dylan and Tara—if anyone knew what was really going on, it'd be Scarlette, who was
practically part of Dylan's inner circle.
Scarlette heard her phone buzzing, rolled over, and tried to reach for it, but she was wrapped up tight in
someone's arms.
Nicholas was holding her close, nuzzling her neck like he never wanted to let go. "Nicholas?" she mumbled, a
little dazed. When did he crawl into bed?
Without missing a beat, Nicholas reached over and hung up her ringing phone. His voice was low, just a little
grumpy. "It's late. Who's calling you now? Don't tellit's that Morgan guy again."
Scarlette tried to sit up and grab her phone, but Nicholas just tossed it further away onto the couch.
"What could possibly be so urgent? Whatever it is can wait till morning," he insisted.
Scarlette had been texting on and off with Clara these past few days, and something told her this call was from
her. She tried to keep her cool.
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"It's just a good friend-she wantsto pick her up."
Nicholas raised his eyebrows, leaned in, and kissed her long and deep, only letting her go when he was satisfied.
Scarlette slipped out of bed, finally got her phone, and, sure enough, it was that unfamiliar number.
She headed to the living room and stepped out onto the balcony for privacy. "Clara, what's up? Dylan and Tara?
The Warrens threw a welcparty the other day-he showed up with Tara, and everyone was saying they looked
amazing together. A total golden couple vibe. They even went upstairs together-no one knows what happened,
but honestly, everyone in our circle thinks they're a great match. I'm starting to wonder if that wedding rumor
you mentioned might actually be true."
Scarlette still couldn't quite believe Dylan would do something like that. She'd even tried asking Nicholas, but he
was annoyingly tight-lipped about Dylan.
Clara finally felt srelief after hearing this. Then she remembered the note she'd found. Knowing Dylan, for
him to write something like that, he must really care about Tara.
"Sorry, Scarlette. | shouldn't have called so late."
Scarlette was a little irritated herself, especially with Nicholas still waiting for her in bed. The thought made her
want to escape and just crash on the couch. Between her project keeping her up at night and all the , she
hadn't had a full night's sleep in forever. She'd spent more than a year preparing for this deal, and now, right
when it was about to go through, everything kept falling apart. On top of that, she had to pretend to be all
buddy-buddy with Morgan in front of their partners. If Nicholas ever found out what was going on, who knows
what kind of mess he'd stir up.
For now, she just had to keep it quiet.
“It's fine, really. | should've picked you up that night anyway."
They chatted a bit longer before hanging up.
Clara finally felt at ease. If Dylan and Tara were really getting along, maybe her leaving wouldn't make Dylan
take anything out on Z. Maybe in a few days, word of Dylan's big wedding would be all over the Capital.
She smiled a little as she drifted off to sleep.
She'd been sleeping well lately-no dreams at all. But tonight, she dreamed of Z.
She saw him lying on the ground, blood everywhere. She tried everything to stop the bleeding, but it was
useless.
The world around them was falling apart, shaking like a painting about to rip.
Z reached out, struggling, trying to hold her hand. Clara wanted to reach back, but
suddenly a huge chasm opened between them, forcing them apart.
She jumped in after him, but all she found was a swampy abyss, monsters howling all around her.
The dream shifted. Now she saw Z standing outside in the pouring rain, wrapped
in mist, as if he was in the middle of ssecret mission.
She walked toward him, hoping that maybe, just this once, she'd see his face. But
as if he sensed her behind him, he asked softly, "Who's there?"
She froze, and for a second, it felt too real.
He straightened up, and when he
saw her, his eyes lit up with surpe
and happiness. He reached for the black mask on his face, about to pull it off, but before he could, a bullet hit
him.
He didn't dodge. Clutching his chest, he looked at her—shocked, hurt, and broken.
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