The Ruined Heiress's Dark Contract Marriage

The black Maybach rolled to a smooth stop outside the towering iron gates of the Phillips estate in Long Island.

Elsie took a deep breath, her chest tight, and pushed the car door open.

The two bodyguards immediately stepped out to follow her.

Elsie held up a hand, stopping them. "This is family business. Wait for me out here."

She punched the security code into the keypad. The heavy gates clicked open.

As she walked into the grand foyer, her stomach churned. Aisha had completely gutted her mother's elegant decor, replacing it with gaudy, gold-plated monstrosities that screamed new money.

Aisha was sitting on the velvet sofa, sipping afternoon tea.

When she saw Elsie, a cruel, mocking sneer twisted her perfectly botoxed face.

She set her teacup down with a clatter. "Well, look who it is. The disgraced little slut actually has the nerve to show her face here."

Elsie's jaw clenched. She didn't look at her. She walked straight toward the spiral staircase leading to the second-floor study. She just needed the diary.

"Looking for this?"

Belle appeared at the top of the stairs, blocking the landing. She looked down at Elsie, her eyes shining with malicious triumph.

In Belle's hand was a worn, brown leather notebook. Her mother's diary.

Elsie's blood ran cold. She took a step up the stairs, her voice dropping to a lethal octave. "Give that back to me. Now."

The heavy oak doors of the study swung open.

Fenton walked out, a thick Cuban cigar clamped between his teeth. He waved a hand, and four massive estate security guards stepped out from the shadows, completely cutting off Elsie's path back to the front door.

Fenton walked to the edge of the landing, pulling the cigar from his mouth. The fake, loving uncle routine was entirely gone.

"Everything in this house belongs to the Barr family now, Elsie," Fenton sneered.

Elsie didn't back down. She stared straight into Fenton's cold eyes.

"I know about the brakes, Fenton," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "I know you paid to have them killed."

Fenton's face instantly darkened. The smugness vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine, murderous intent. He hadn't expected the stupid girl to dig that deep.

He gave a sharp nod to the guards.

Two of the massive men lunged forward. They grabbed Elsie's arms, violently twisting them behind her back.

"Let go of me!" Elsie screamed, thrashing wildly. Her heels kicked against the hardwood floor, echoing through the house. "There are men waiting for me outside! If I don't walk out of here, you're dead!"

Fenton walked over to the window and peered out at the gates. He saw the two men in black suits.

He let out a dark chuckle and walked over to the wall panel, slamming his hand over the estate's electromagnetic jammer switch.

The signal bars on Elsie's phone instantly vanished.

Fenton marched down the stairs. He reached into Elsie's cashmere coat, ripped the phone from her pocket, and smashed it onto the marble floor, crushing it under his heel.

Aisha strutted forward. She grabbed Elsie's jaw, her long acrylic nails digging into Elsie's cheeks.

"Since you love opening your legs so much," Aisha hissed, "you can finally do something useful for this family. Did you really think you were still the untouchable heiress? You're lower than a streetwalker now. I could throw you into the darkest underground brothel in Brooklyn and no one would blink an eye."

Aisha leaned in, her breath smelling of bitter tea. "But you're in luck. A very exclusive client loved your little performance on that screen last night. Mortimer Graves is willing to pay fifty million for one night with you."

The name hit Elsie like a physical blow. Mortimer Graves. The Wall Street psycho known for hospitalizing the women he hired.

Bile rose in Elsie's throat. She gathered the saliva in her mouth and spat directly into Aisha's face. "You're all sick animals!"

Aisha shrieked. She wiped her face and backhanded Elsie with all her strength.

The sharp edge of her diamond ring sliced three bloody scratches across Elsie's pale cheek.

Fenton waved his hand in disgust. "Throw her in the storage room upstairs. The one without the windows."

The guards dragged Elsie up the stairs by her arms. Her knees slammed against the wooden steps, sending sharp spikes of pain up her legs, but she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

They threw her like a ragdoll into the dark, dusty storage room.

The heavy solid wood door slammed shut in her face. The deadbolt clicked into place.

Elsie threw herself against the wood, pounding her fists until her knuckles bled. "Let me out! Help!"

But the soundproofed walls swallowed her screams whole.

Through the thick wood, she could faintly hear Aisha barking orders at the maids. "Get the car ready for tonight. And find the sluttiest dress we have to put her in."

Elsie stumbled backward into the pitch-black room.

She felt along the cold walls. No phone. No windows. The air vent near the ceiling was too small for a cat to fit through.

Her legs gave out. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees tightly to her chest. Her entire body shook uncontrollably as the sheer, suffocating terror of what was coming settled over her.

Outside the estate gates, the two bodyguards checked their watches. Ten minutes had passed without any sign of Miss Phillips.

Sensing something was wrong, the two men exchanged a vigilant look before one of them tapped his earpiece, his voice dropping to a low, urgent murmur. "Mr. Weston. We have a situation. The target has been out of sight for ten minutes, and the property just went dark on comms. Requesting immediate instructions."