Bound By Contract: The Possessive CEO's Bride

Kaylee walked through the grand double doors of the Fletcher estate. Ernest’s steadying hand pressed against the small of her back—not pushing, but anchoring her. She had been trembling so violently on the driveway that he had simply taken her elbow and told her, “I’ll see this through with you.” Now his touch was the only thing keeping her legs from giving out. Her muddy bare feet left dark prints on the pristine marble floor of the foyer. In the center of the massive living room, Donita was pacing furiously. Kallie sat on a velvet sofa, reapplying her lipstick with an annoyed expression. Hearing the footsteps, Donita whipped her head around. When she saw Kaylee standing there, soaking wet, her face contorted with rage. She shrieked like a stepped-on cat. "You little bitch! You finally decided to drag yourself back?!" Donita stormed forward. She was so blinded by anger she completely ignored the massive man standing right next to Kaylee. Kallie stood up and crossed her arms. "Mr. Ziegler has been waiting in the upstairs guest room for an hour. Go wash the mud off and get up there!" she sneered. Hearing the old man was upstairs made Kaylee’s stomach heave. Pure revulsion washed over her. The only reason she had come back at all was the promise Ernest Blackwell made her on the stone steps outside—that he would not let them sell her off to that man. She instinctively shrank back, pressing her shoulder against Ernest’s chest. Donita saw Kaylee cowering and lost her mind. She raised her right hand high in the air and swung it down with all her strength, aiming a vicious slap right at Kaylee’s face. The sound of the wind whipping off Donita’s hand rushed toward Kaylee. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the impact. The slap never landed. A sickening crack echoed through the large room. Bone snapped. Donita let out a blood-curdling scream. Kaylee’s eyes flew open. Ernest had caught Donita’s wrist mid-air. His massive hand was clamped around her arm like a steel vice. His eyes were dead, staring at Donita as if she were a corpse. With a brutal flick of his wrist, Ernest shoved Donita backward. The older woman flew back two meters and crashed hard onto the marble floor, her dress tangling around her legs. "Who the hell are you?!" Donita shrieked, clutching her dislocated wrist. Her face was twisted in agony. "How dare you walk into my house and assault me! This is a private residence!" Kallie dropped her lipstick. She ran over and helped her mother sit up. Only then did she look up to inspect the man who had just broken her mother’s arm. When Kallie’s eyes locked onto Ernest’s face, she stopped breathing. The color drained from her face. The compact mirror in her hand slipped and shattered on the marble floor. At the exact same moment, the arrogant fury vanished from Donita’s face. As a woman who spent her life trying to claw her way into high society, she recognized the ruthless billionaire who graced the covers of every financial magazine. The realization hit her like a freight train. "Blackwell... Mr. Blackwell?" Kallie’s voice shook violently. Her knees buckled. Donita’s screaming stopped instantly. It was replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. She looked like she was going to throw up, realizing she had just raised her hand against a woman standing under the protection of the most dangerous man in New York. Ernest didn’t even look at them. He pulled a pure white, monogrammed handkerchief from his breast pocket. He slowly and meticulously wiped the fingers that had touched Donita’s arm. When he was done, he dropped the expensive fabric onto the floor right at Donita’s feet. The gesture was dripping with disgust. He shifted his body, stepping slightly in front of Kaylee, shielding her completely from their view. His deep voice boomed through the room, carrying absolute authority. “You will listen carefully because I will not repeat myself.” He let the silence stretch, making sure every syllable landed like a hammer. “This woman walked up that driveway half-drowned, barefoot, and too terrified to knock on her own door. I stopped my car because no one else did. What I saw in her eyes told me everything I needed to know about the people inside this house.” He took another step forward, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “I do not care about your family squabbles. I do not care about the old man you’ve got stashed upstairs. But I have a very low tolerance for cowards who beat on vulnerable women. Touch her again, threaten her again, and I will dismantle your lives piece by piece.” Donita and Kallie stared, mouths open. Kaylee felt her heart hammer against her ribs. Ernest Blackwell hadn’t called her his wife. He hadn’t claimed any formal tie. He was simply standing there like a stone fortress, refusing to let the world take another swing at her, and that alone made tears burn behind her eyes. Kallie forced a trembling smile. “Mr. Blackwell, you don’t understand. Kaylee is our family. She’s just being dramatic. There’s no need for you to involve yourself—” Ernest shot a single, lethal glare at Kallie. The look was so terrifying that Kallie choked on her own words and clamped her mouth shut. Donita swallowed hard. She tried to stand up, attempting to salvage some authority. "Mr. Blackwell, this is a private family matter, and frankly it has nothing to do with you..." “It became my concern the second I watched two grown women try to sell a girl to a predator in exchange for social standing,” Ernest cut her off ruthlessly. “I have heard enough.” He took a slow step forward. His presence suffocated the room. “I understand you are holding property that belongs to Kaylee. A crystal box. Something her mother left behind. You will return it immediately.” Donita took a step back, trembling. “I... I was just keeping it safe for her... it’s in the study, but surely you can see this is an internal family—” Ernest let out a dark chuckle that held no humor whatsoever. “You have three minutes. Hand over the crystal box. If you don’t, the Fletcher Corporation will enter bankruptcy liquidation at exactly eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I will personally call the heads of both lending banks before I walk out that door, and by sunrise your credit lines will be frozen.” He stated the exact, down-to-the-cent figures of their two overdue bank loans. Donita's psychological defenses shattered completely. She collapsed back onto the floor.