Too Late Mr CEO: Watch Me Reign

Ellsworth crossed the room in two massive strides. He grabbed Felicity by the throat and slammed her hard against the wall.

His grip was like iron. He stared at the white piece of paper on the nightstand, his eyes burning with a psychotic, murderous rage.

"Whose bastard is it?" he ground out, his teeth bared. His knuckles turned stark white as he squeezed her windpipe, cutting off her oxygen.

Felicity clawed at his hand, gasping for air. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision. But she forced her lips into a mocking, defiant smirk. "Arthur," she choked out, intentionally using the name to drive him insane.

Ellsworth let out a guttural, animalistic roar. He released her throat, grabbed the medical report, and ripped it into tiny shreds. The pieces fluttered to the carpet like dirty snow.

He turned toward the open door. "Get the jet ready," he barked at the bodyguards in the hall. "We're taking her to the medical ship in international waters. Now."

Panic exploded in Felicity's chest. She had miscalculated his madness. She scrambled away from the wall, lunging for the door.

Ellsworth caught her by the hair, yanking her backward. She screamed as she fell against his chest. He ripped off his silk tie and brutally bound her wrists together behind her back, pulling the knot so tight it cut off her circulation.

He threw her over his shoulder. She kicked and thrashed, her heels hitting his back, but he didn't even flinch. He carried her down the hotel hallway, completely ignoring the shocked faces of the guests peeking out of their rooms.

In the elevator, Felicity opened her mouth to scream for help. Ellsworth slammed her against the mirrored wall and crashed his mouth down on hers. It wasn't a kiss; it was a violent, punishing assault that bruised her lips and silenced her cries.

When the doors opened in the basement, the bodyguards had already cleared the area. Ellsworth threw her into the back of the SUV and climbed in after her, his massive body pinning her to the leather seats.

The car tore through the rainy streets. Felicity stared out the window, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was going to be butchered.

"Weather's too bad for drive, sir," Gus reported from the front seat.

"Take her to Dr. Finch's clinic on the Upper East Side," Ellsworth commanded coldly.

The SUV skidded to a halt in a dark, narrow alley. Ellsworth dragged her out of the car and pounded on the metal door of the private clinic.

Dr. Finch opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. When he saw Ellsworth's murderous expression, the color drained from his face.

Ellsworth shoved Felicity into the sterile, freezing operating room and threw her onto the metal table. "Prep her for a D&C. Now."

Dr. Finch looked at Felicity, who was shivering violently, her wrists still bound. "Mr. Mckinney, I need to do an ultrasound first to confirm-"

Ellsworth pulled a Glock from his shoulder holster and pressed the barrel directly against Dr. Finch's forehead. "I don't need confirmation. I want that parasite out of her body this second."

Felicity screamed as two burly nurses grabbed her shoulders. They forced her legs apart, strapping her ankles into the humiliating metal stirrups. Freezing antiseptic spray hit her bare skin.

"I'm not pregnant!" Felicity shrieked, thrashing against the straps. The tie bit into her wrists, drawing blood. "The report was fake! Stop!"

Ellsworth stood over her, his eyes devoid of any human empathy. He adjusted his cufflink with chilling calm. "Save your lies."

Dr. Finch snapped on his latex gloves. He picked up the metal dilator. The cold steel gleamed under the harsh surgical lights. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping down her temple. Her heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

Just as the metal touched her skin, a deafening siren shattered the silence.

Red and blue police lights strobed violently through the clinic's frosted windows.

Ellsworth's head snapped toward the door. "Sir, anonymous tip. NYPD is swarming the building for an armed hostage situation. Someone reported you dragging a woman inside at gunpoint. We need to move."

Dr. Finch dropped the surgical tools. The metal clattered loudly against the floor. He threw his hands up in sheer panic. "You have to leave! Now!"

Ellsworth glared at Felicity, his jaw tight. He thought she had orchestrated this, but the genuine shock on her face proved she hadn't expected the cops either.

A megaphone blared from outside. "NYPD! Open the doors immediately!"

The clinic's security alarms began to shriek.

Ellsworth cursed viciously. A public scandal involving an illegal clinic would tank Mckinney Group's stock. He barked at the nurses to unstrap her. He grabbed a white doctor's coat from a hook and threw it over Felicity's half-naked body.

He hauled her off the table by her arm and dragged her toward the clinic's hidden underground escape tunnel.

Felicity's legs felt like jelly. She stumbled through the pitch-black, narrow corridor, entirely dependent on his brutal grip to keep from falling. She looked back at the empty, terrifying operating table, her lungs heaving as she realized she had survived by seconds.

They emerged two blocks away, stepping out into the pouring rain next to a discreet backup sedan.

Ellsworth shoved her into the passenger seat, his face inches from hers. "This isn't over," he hissed.

Felicity slumped against the cold window. The rain battered the glass. She slowly opened her bruised, bloody hand. Resting in her palm was the micro-wiretap Brennan had given her. A manic, desperate light flickered in her eyes.