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Trapped In His Cruel Six Year Contract Novel Cover

Trapped In His Cruel Six Year Contract

Essie sold herself to ruthless billionaire Kieran Cortez on a six-year contract just to pay for her paralyzed brother's staggering medical bills. But the morning Kieran’s face was plastered on the front page announcing his engagement to a wealthy heiress, he violently refused to let Essie go. When she quietly asked if their contract was over, he trapped her against the marble counter. "You don't have the right to call this off. It would be a shame if Charles lost his spot in the medical trial." Trapped, Essie endured his brutal, punishing kisses in hidden corners, terrified of being discovered by his new fiancée, who worked as a doctor at her hospital. But the ultimate betrayal came from home. When her brother saw the dark, violent bruises Kieran had deliberately left on her neck, he didn't care about her sacrifices. He threw scalding coffee on her burned hand. "You disgusting whore! I would rather die than use the dirty money you make spreading your legs!" Even Kieran's fiancée investigated her finances, cornering her to smugly warn her to know her place as a lowly sugar baby. Essie had sacrificed her dignity, her body, and her soul to keep her brother alive, only to be treated like disposable trash by the man who owned her and despised by the family she saved. Why did her endless sacrifices only buy her a suffocating, inescapable hell? Staring at the phone screen flashing with Kieran’s demand to be at his penthouse by eight, a dead calmness finally washed over her. She held down the power button until the screen went black. Even if his wrath destroyed her tomorrow, tonight, she was taking her life back.
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Chapter 8

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ping. Adelle sprinted out, clutching a small orange pill bottle.

She ran to Kieran, her hands shaking as she popped the cap off and tipped two white pills into his palm. "Here, take them," she urged.

Kieran swallowed the pills dry. He let out a slow breath, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice still playing the part of the weakened man.

Adelle turned her head. She looked at Essie, who was still pressed flat against the concrete pillar, trembling like a leaf, her face completely drained of color. A flicker of confusion crossed Adelle's perfect features.

Kieran spoke up immediately, cutting off any questions. "Essie looks like she's about to pass out. To be safe, I've already called a car to take her home."

Adelle nodded, easily accepting the lie. "You're right. I need to get you home to rest anyway. I couldn't possibly drive her now."

A massive, black Lincoln Navigator rolled smoothly into the underground garage and parked right in front of them.

Kieran stepped forward. He grabbed Essie by the upper arm-his grip bruisingly tight under the guise of helping her-and practically shoved her into the spacious backseat of the SUV.

The heavy door slammed shut, instantly cutting off the sounds of the garage.

The Lincoln glided out of the hospital and merged into the glittering, chaotic traffic of the Manhattan night.

Essie curled herself into a tight ball in the corner of the plush leather seat. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to get her racing heart to slow down.

In the driver's seat, a burly white man named Gus Petrenko glanced at Essie through the rearview mirror.

Gus knew exactly who she was. He had been the one dispatched in the dead of night, countless times, to drive her to the penthouse.

Gus cleared his throat. His eyes remained fixed on the road, his posture rigidly professional, but his voice carried a chilling, detached tone. "Mr. Cortez ordered me to ensure you are secured and transported to your residence. Please fasten your seatbelt."

Essie's entire body went rigid. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock and deep humiliation.

Gus adjusted the rearview mirror, his expression completely blank, offering no sympathy. "The boss expects absolute compliance, miss. I suggest you don't make this difficult for either of us."

The words felt like a physical slap across Essie's face. Her cheeks burned with a hot, shameful flush.

She gripped the edge of her scrub top. "We are not in that kind of relationship," she said, her voice shaking with outrage.

She leaned forward desperately. "It's a misunderstanding. He just called the car because he felt bad for an employee."

Gus didn't even blink. He let out a curt, icy breath that sounded almost like a scoff. "My job is to drive, miss. What Mr. Cortez does with his property is none of my business."

That cold, dismissive response shattered the last of Essie's defenses. She felt completely exposed, stripped naked, and put on display like a cheap piece of meat.

She bit down on her lip, turning her head sharply to stare out the tinted window. The city lights blurred as hot tears pooled in her eyes.

The car was dead silent, save for the low hum of the heater blowing warm air into the cabin.

As the Lincoln crossed into the rundown streets of Queens, Essie suddenly lunged forward and slammed her hand against the back of the driver's seat.

"Stop the car. Pull over right here," she demanded. They were still three blocks away from her apartment.

Gus frowned, looking at the dark, sketchy street. "It's freezing out there, miss. And this isn't exactly a safe neighborhood."

"I said stop the car!" Essie yelled, her hand already yanking on the door handle.

Gus hit the brakes. The heavy SUV lurched to a halt by the curb.

Essie shoved the door open and threw herself out into the biting, freezing wind of the New York winter.

She pulled her thin coat tight around her scrubs. She kept her head down and practically ran down the poorly lit sidewalk, terrified that Charles might look out the window and see the luxury car dropping her off.

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