Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable

Jaret Burns's fingers dug into Eleonora's slender wrist like a steel vice. He didn't just guide her; he dragged her through the heavy oak doors of the Manhattan District Court hearing room. Eleonora's red-bottom heels caught on the polished marble floor. She stumbled, her shoulder jerking forward. She didn't gasp. She didn't complain. She simply locked her knees, stabilized her stance, and ripped her wrist out of his grip with a sharp, violent pull. Jaret's jaw tightened. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and shoved her down into the wooden chair at the defendant's table. The force of it rattled her teeth. A few feet away, in the front row of the gallery, Chelsie Gates sat with her shoulders hunched. Chelsie dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a crumpled tissue. Her shoulders shook with perfectly timed, fragile sobs. But as Chelsie lowered the tissue, her eyes locked onto Eleonora. A slow, triumphant smirk twisted her glossy lips. Eleonora saw it. A violent wave of nausea crashed into her stomach, twisting her insides into a tight, agonizing knot. Jaret leaned in close. The expensive, icy scent of his cedarwood cologne invaded her lungs, making it hard to breathe. "Cocaine in the trunk of your car, Eleonora," Jaret hissed through clenched teeth, his breath hot against her ear. "You are a disgrace. You are dragging my family name through the mud because you couldn't handle your own jealousy." Eleonora turned her head slowly. She stared directly into the eyes of the man she had loved for seven years. There was no warmth left in his gaze. There was only blind arrogance and a desperate need to protect the woman crying in the gallery. A literal, physical chill started at Eleonora's fingertips. The ice crawled up her arms, seeped into her chest, and wrapped around her beating heart until it went completely numb. Seven years ago, she had given up a Supreme Court clerkship for this man. In this exact second, the ashes of that sacrifice blew away into nothingness. The sharp crack of the judge's gavel echoed through the high-ceilinged room. "Order in the court," the judge's voice boomed, heavy with authority. The prosecutor stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. He loudly read the charges of illegal possession of a controlled substance against Eleonora Beard. A low murmur rippled through the gallery. Dozens of eyes stabbed into Eleonora's back, judging the tech CEO's wife. Jaret took a deliberate step back from her chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, his body language screaming to the room that he was distancing himself from this criminal. Eleonora's defense attorney turned to her. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for the final command. Eleonora didn't hesitate. She gave him a single, ice-cold nod. The attorney shot to his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. The defense has critical, time-stamped evidence to submit." Jaret's crossed arms stiffened. A deep frown carved into his forehead. In the gallery, Chelsie's fake sob caught in her throat. The color instantly drained from her face, leaving her looking like a ghost. The court technician took the USB drive from the attorney. A massive screen descended behind the judge's bench. The screen flickered to life. The high-definition footage showed the dim, concrete walls of the underground garage at Jaret's estate. Eleonora straightened her spine. She kept her eyes locked on the screen, her face an unreadable mask as the ugly truth prepared to unfold. On the screen, Chelsie sneaked into the frame. She looked over her shoulder, then used a spare key to unlock Eleonora's sedan. Chelsie reached into her Birkin bag. She pulled out a sealed plastic bag filled with white powder. The video paused, freezing on the exact frame where Chelsie shoved the drugs into the spare tire compartment. The courtroom went dead silent.