Bound By Contract: The Possessive CEO's Bride

Kaylee clutched the tissue in her fist. She stumbled after Ernest's broad back as they exited City Hall. The heavy rain had reduced to a steady drizzle.

Edson was already holding the door open. Ernest slid into the backseat. Kaylee climbed in right after him. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing them inside.

The Maybach pulled away from the curb like a ghost. The silence inside the cabin was thicker and more oppressive than before.

Kaylee twisted her fingers together in her lap. She kept her head bowed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwell," she whispered, guilt gnawing at her insides. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess."

Ernest leaned his head back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even look at her. "Call me Ernest. Remember your position."

Kaylee choked on her words. She swallowed hard. "Okay... Ernest. But I can go back and get it myself. You don't need to-"

Ernest's eyes snapped open. His gaze pierced straight through her. "Go back yourself? So they can pack you up like trash and throw you into that old man's bed?"

The words were brutal. They sliced right through Kaylee's desperate facade. Her face went completely white. She bit down on her lower lip, tasting blood again. She had no argument. It was the truth.

Ernest saw the color drain from her face. He realized his words were too harsh. A flash of irritation crossed his features. He aggressively yanked his tie loose and turned his head to stare out the tinted window.

He pulled a heavily encrypted phone from his inner pocket. His thumbs flew across the screen. He sent a direct order to Edson in the front seat.

"Edson. Three minutes. I want the preliminary financial data on the Fletcher Corporation, and run a surface sweep for any immediate red flags regarding her mother's estate."

In the driver's seat, Edson's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. He immediately steered the car with his left hand and pulled up a tablet with his right, his fingers flying across the digital keyboard.

The only sound in the car was the tires splashing through the puddles on the road. Kaylee stared out the window. The scenery was becoming familiar. They were heading back to Long Island. Her body started to tremble uncontrollably.

Two minutes and fifty seconds later, a secure file pinged onto Ernest's tablet. Edson's voice came through the intercom. "Boss, the deep dive will take hours, but I pulled their immediate financials and a flagged asset log."

Ernest opened the document. His eyes scanned the Fletcher Corporation's financial statements. A cold sneer touched his lips. "Insolvent. A pile of garbage. They are drowning in debt."

He scrolled down to the asset log. The notes on the crystal box were brief, pulled from an old probate record: Belonged to biological mother, Ione Dale. Material unknown. Currently in Donita Fletcher's possession.

Ernest locked the tablet. He turned his head and looked at Kaylee. She was curled up in the corner of the seat, shivering. A strange, violent urge to protect her flared up in his chest. He didn't bother analyzing it.

The Maybach turned onto the wealthy streets of Long Island. The massive iron gates of the Fletcher estate came into view.

The gates were wide open. Parked right in the middle of the driveway was a tacky, oversized stretch Lincoln. Mitch Ziegler's car.

Kaylee saw the vehicle. Her pupils shrank. Her breathing turned into rapid, shallow gasps. She pressed her back hard against the leather seat, trying to put distance between herself and the house.

Ernest noticed her panic. His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Edson. Drive straight through. Ram anything in the way."

The Maybach's engine growled. The car didn't slow down. It shot through the gates, swerved violently around the Lincoln, and slammed on the brakes right in front of the main doors.

Kaylee sucked in a lungful of air. She put her hand on the door handle. She had to face those monsters alone.

"What are you doing?" Ernest's voice was freezing.

Kaylee looked back at him. She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I'll just run in and grab it. I'll be fast. You don't have to-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Ernest pushed his door open. He stepped out, walked around the back of the car, and yanked her door open from the outside.

"Get out," he commanded. "I am walking in with you."