Bound By Contract: The Possessive CEO's Bride

The Maybach glided to a smooth stop outside the hidden VIP entrance of New York City Hall. Several government officials in tailored suits were already standing on the pavement, shivering under black umbrellas in the freezing rain.

Edson jumped out and pulled Ernest's door open. Ernest stepped out into the night. An official immediately lunged forward, tilting an umbrella over Ernest's head while letting the rain soak his own shoulders.

Kaylee scrambled out after him. Her injured ankle gave way the moment her foot hit the wet concrete. She stumbled forward, bracing herself to face-plant into a muddy puddle.

A strong hand clamped around her upper arm just before she hit the ground. It wasn't Ernest. He had stepped back instinctively, his severe germaphobia flaring at the sight of the muddy puddle. Instead, Edson had rushed forward at a sharp nod from his boss, hauling her upright.

"Ensure she doesn't fall on my property. It's an ugly look," Ernest said coldly, keeping a measured distance as they walked through the glass doors.

They bypassed the empty public corridors and entered a massive, brightly lit office. The clerks were standing at attention. The paperwork was already laid out on the mahogany desk.

Ernest gestured coldly toward a leather chair. She stared at the New York State marriage license in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pen.

Ernest stood right beside her. He leaned over and signed his name on the groom's line. His handwriting was aggressive and sharp. His presence was completely suffocating.

He handed the gold pen to Kaylee. The metal was still warm from his fingers. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and signed her name.

The clerk stepped forward and stamped the documents. A loud clack echoed in the room. Two gold-embossed marriage certificates were placed on the desk.

Kaylee stared at the two names printed side by side. The absurdity of the situation made her dizzy. She was legally married to a billionaire she had spoken to exactly twice in her life.

Suddenly, the battered phone Kaylee had been clutching since her escape—now sitting on the edge of the desk—began to vibrate violently. The cracked screen lit up.

The caller ID read: Donita.

Those six letters felt like a physical blow to Kaylee's stomach. She flinched, her shoulders jerking upward.

The harsh ringing sound filled the quiet office. Ernest frowned. His cold eyes shifted to the cheap piece of plastic on the desk.

Kaylee panicked. She reached out to hit the reject button, but her shaking fingers slipped. Before she could fumble with the screen again, Ernest reached over her shoulder, his hand shielded by a silk handkerchief as he snatched the device from the desk, his expression darkening. Without asking for permission, he hit the answer button and tapped the speaker icon, placing the phone back down to force the issue into the open.

Donita's shrill, furious scream blasted through the room. "You little bitch! You actually ran away?!"

All the blood drained from Kaylee's face. She lunged to cover the speaker with her hands, feeling completely exposed and humiliated in front of everyone.

"How far do you think you can run?" Donita spat through the phone. "You have thirty minutes to drag your ass back here!"

Kaylee couldn't breathe.

"If you don't," Donita's voice turned venomous, "you will never see that crystal box your dead mother left you again. I will smash it into a million pieces!"

Kaylee's pupils dilated. Pure terror and rage exploded in her chest. "Don't touch my mother's things!" she screamed at the phone.

Donita laughed. It was a sickening sound. "Then get back here and put the dress on. Mr. Ziegler's car is pulling up right now."

Tears spilled over Kaylee's lower lashes. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Take anything else. Just leave the box alone..."

The clerks in the room awkwardly looked down at their shoes. No one dared to make a sound.

The temperature in the room dropped below freezing. Ernest's face darkened with a terrifying rage. The muscles in his neck corded.

He took one step forward, reached over Kaylee's shoulder, and snatched the phone again with the handkerchief.

He brought the device to his mouth. His voice was a low, demonic whisper that commanded absolute authority. "She is going nowhere."

Donita gasped on the other end. "Who the hell is this?! Put that little slut back on the phone!"

Ernest didn't even blink. He pressed the end call button. He tossed the phone back onto the desk. It landed with a sharp smack.

He looked down at Kaylee. Her face was wet with tears. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and pressed it roughly against her cheek.

"Dry your face," he commanded. "Mrs. Blackwell does not cry in front of anyone."

He turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. He didn't look back as he threw an order over his shoulder.

"Edson. Get the car ready. We are going to the Fletcher estate."