Kaylee sat frozen in the wet sand, buried under the massive suit jacket.

"Get in," Ernest ordered. His voice was flat. He turned his back to her and walked toward the rear door of the Maybach.

The bodyguard immediately let go of her arm. His demeanor flipped instantly. He stepped forward and respectfully held the heavy car door open for her.

Kaylee was stunned. She dragged her muddy, bleeding feet across the sand and climbed into the luxurious leather backseat.

The moment the door closed, the roaring storm was completely cut off. Warm air blasted from the vents, wrapping around her freezing skin. She sank into the soft leather, a shaky sigh escaping her lips.

The opposite door opened. Ernest slid into the seat.

A wide center console separated them, but his physical presence was overwhelming. The sheer size of him seemed to suck the oxygen out of the cabin. Kaylee pressed her knees together and tried not to breathe too loudly.

The interior of the car was dead silent. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

In the front seat, Edson glanced at the rearview mirror. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of the filthy girl ruining the pristine leather.

Ernest caught his eye in the mirror. He shot Edson a look so lethal that the assistant instantly snapped his eyes back to the windshield.

Ernest pressed a button on the door panel. A thick soundproof glass partition glided up, completely sealing off the back seat from the front.

He turned his head and locked his eyes on Kaylee. It felt like an X-ray scanning her bones.

"Explain your situation," he demanded coldly. His long fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against his knee. "I have no tolerance for wasted time."

Kaylee forced her racing heart to slow down. She spoke fast. She detailed the Fletcher family's impending bankruptcy. She explained Donita's plan to sell her off to Mitch Ziegler to cover the debts.

When she mentioned Mitch's name, a sneer formed on Ernest's lips. He clearly knew of the old man's disgusting reputation.

Kaylee's voice cracked when she talked about her mother's confiscated belongings. She swallowed hard, biting the inside of her cheek to force the tears back down. She refused to cry in front of him.

Ernest watched her jaw tighten. His tapping fingers paused for a fraction of a second. A strange glint flickered in his dark eyes.

He leaned back against the headrest and crossed his arms over his chest. "I will clear your debts and handle the old man. In exchange, you will play a role for me."

Kaylee's head snapped up. Pure relief washed over her face. She nodded frantically. "I will do anything."

"Three months," Ernest stated, his voice hard as steel. "For three months, you will act as my devoted wife. You will deal with my family."

He leaned forward. His broad shoulders invaded her space. "During this contract, you follow my orders absolutely. Do not ask questions. Do not touch things that aren't yours."

The heavy scent of his cologne and raw male pheromones hit her face. Kaylee's heart skipped a beat. She instinctively pressed her back harder against the door.

"When the three months are over, the contract terminates. I will wire you a compensation fee large enough to fund the rest of your life. We walk away clean," he finished ruthlessly.

Hearing the words "walk away clean," a tiny, irrational sting hit Kaylee's chest. But the overwhelming joy of buying her freedom crushed it instantly.

She didn't hesitate. She reached out her right hand. It was covered in dried mud, blood, and rust. "Deal, Mr. Blackwell."

Ernest looked down at her hand. His severe germaphobia kicked in immediately. His body went rigid. A deep crease formed between his eyebrows.

Kaylee realized what she had done. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She felt sick with embarrassment. She quickly tried to pull her dirty hand back, wishing the floorboards would swallow her whole.

Just as her fingers began to retreat, Ernest reached out. His jaw tight with an ingrained, visceral revulsion to dirt, his hand hovered for a fraction of a second. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away from the mud and blood. Yet, driven by a strange, inexplicable compulsion that overrode his severe germaphobia, his large, strong hand clamped down over hers.

The physical contact was an absolute violation of his own rules, a shock to his highly controlled system. His palm was warm and slightly rough. The grip was firm and undeniable. A jolt of electricity shot up Kaylee's arm. She shivered.

He held her hand for exactly one second before letting go.

He pressed the intercom button to the front seat. "Edson. City Hall."

The car swerved slightly. Edson's voice came through the speaker, stammering. "Boss? Right now? It's one in the morning."

Ernest's eyes narrowed. "Do I need to teach you how to drag the mayor out of his bed to open the doors?"

"No, sir!" Edson barked back.

The Maybach's engine roared. The car shot forward into the rainy night with brutal acceleration.

Kaylee was pushed deep into the seat by the force. She turned her head and stared out the window at the blurred streetlights. Her brain could not process reality.

She stole a glance at the man sitting next to her. He had his eyes closed. She pulled his warm suit jacket tighter around her shoulders, her fingers gripping the lapels like a lifeline.

The Maybach glided to a smooth stop outside the hidden VIP entrance of New York City Hall. Several government officials in tailored suits were already standing on the pavement, shivering under black umbrellas in the freezing rain.

Edson jumped out and pulled Ernest's door open. Ernest stepped out into the night. An official immediately lunged forward, tilting an umbrella over Ernest's head while letting the rain soak his own shoulders.

Kaylee scrambled out after him. Her injured ankle gave way the moment her foot hit the wet concrete. She stumbled forward, bracing herself to face-plant into a muddy puddle.

A strong hand clamped around her upper arm just before she hit the ground. It wasn't Ernest. He had stepped back instinctively, his severe germaphobia flaring at the sight of the muddy puddle. Instead, Edson had rushed forward at a sharp nod from his boss, hauling her upright.

"Ensure she doesn't fall on my property. It's an ugly look," Ernest said coldly, keeping a measured distance as they walked through the glass doors.

They bypassed the empty public corridors and entered a massive, brightly lit office. The clerks were standing at attention. The paperwork was already laid out on the mahogany desk.

Ernest gestured coldly toward a leather chair. She stared at the New York State marriage license in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pen.

Ernest stood right beside her. He leaned over and signed his name on the groom's line. His handwriting was aggressive and sharp. His presence was completely suffocating.

He handed the gold pen to Kaylee. The metal was still warm from his fingers. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and signed her name.

The clerk stepped forward and stamped the documents. A loud clack echoed in the room. Two gold-embossed marriage certificates were placed on the desk.

Kaylee stared at the two names printed side by side. The absurdity of the situation made her dizzy. She was legally married to a billionaire she had spoken to exactly twice in her life.

Suddenly, the battered phone Kaylee had been clutching since her escape—now sitting on the edge of the desk—began to vibrate violently. The cracked screen lit up.

The caller ID read: Donita.

Those six letters felt like a physical blow to Kaylee's stomach. She flinched, her shoulders jerking upward.

The harsh ringing sound filled the quiet office. Ernest frowned. His cold eyes shifted to the cheap piece of plastic on the desk.

Kaylee panicked. She reached out to hit the reject button, but her shaking fingers slipped. Before she could fumble with the screen again, Ernest reached over her shoulder, his hand shielded by a silk handkerchief as he snatched the device from the desk, his expression darkening. Without asking for permission, he hit the answer button and tapped the speaker icon, placing the phone back down to force the issue into the open.

Donita's shrill, furious scream blasted through the room. "You little bitch! You actually ran away?!"

All the blood drained from Kaylee's face. She lunged to cover the speaker with her hands, feeling completely exposed and humiliated in front of everyone.

"How far do you think you can run?" Donita spat through the phone. "You have thirty minutes to drag your ass back here!"

Kaylee couldn't breathe.

"If you don't," Donita's voice turned venomous, "you will never see that crystal box your dead mother left you again. I will smash it into a million pieces!"

Kaylee's pupils dilated. Pure terror and rage exploded in her chest. "Don't touch my mother's things!" she screamed at the phone.

Donita laughed. It was a sickening sound. "Then get back here and put the dress on. Mr. Ziegler's car is pulling up right now."

Tears spilled over Kaylee's lower lashes. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Take anything else. Just leave the box alone..."

The clerks in the room awkwardly looked down at their shoes. No one dared to make a sound.

The temperature in the room dropped below freezing. Ernest's face darkened with a terrifying rage. The muscles in his neck corded.

He took one step forward, reached over Kaylee's shoulder, and snatched the phone again with the handkerchief.

He brought the device to his mouth. His voice was a low, demonic whisper that commanded absolute authority. "She is going nowhere."

Donita gasped on the other end. "Who the hell is this?! Put that little slut back on the phone!"

Ernest didn't even blink. He pressed the end call button. He tossed the phone back onto the desk. It landed with a sharp smack.

He looked down at Kaylee. Her face was wet with tears. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and pressed it roughly against her cheek.

"Dry your face," he commanded. "Mrs. Blackwell does not cry in front of anyone."

He turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. He didn't look back as he threw an order over his shoulder.

"Edson. Get the car ready. We are going to the Fletcher estate."

Kaylee clutched the tissue in her fist. She stumbled after Ernest's broad back as they exited City Hall. The heavy rain had reduced to a steady drizzle.

Edson was already holding the door open. Ernest slid into the backseat. Kaylee climbed in right after him. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing them inside.

The Maybach pulled away from the curb like a ghost. The silence inside the cabin was thicker and more oppressive than before.

Kaylee twisted her fingers together in her lap. She kept her head bowed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwell," she whispered, guilt gnawing at her insides. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess."

Ernest leaned his head back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even look at her. "Call me Ernest. Remember your position."

Kaylee choked on her words. She swallowed hard. "Okay... Ernest. But I can go back and get it myself. You don't need to-"

Ernest's eyes snapped open. His gaze pierced straight through her. "Go back yourself? So they can pack you up like trash and throw you into that old man's bed?"

The words were brutal. They sliced right through Kaylee's desperate facade. Her face went completely white. She bit down on her lower lip, tasting blood again. She had no argument. It was the truth.

Ernest saw the color drain from her face. He realized his words were too harsh. A flash of irritation crossed his features. He aggressively yanked his tie loose and turned his head to stare out the tinted window.

He pulled a heavily encrypted phone from his inner pocket. His thumbs flew across the screen. He sent a direct order to Edson in the front seat.

"Edson. Three minutes. I want the preliminary financial data on the Fletcher Corporation, and run a surface sweep for any immediate red flags regarding her mother's estate."

In the driver's seat, Edson's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. He immediately steered the car with his left hand and pulled up a tablet with his right, his fingers flying across the digital keyboard.

The only sound in the car was the tires splashing through the puddles on the road. Kaylee stared out the window. The scenery was becoming familiar. They were heading back to Long Island. Her body started to tremble uncontrollably.

Two minutes and fifty seconds later, a secure file pinged onto Ernest's tablet. Edson's voice came through the intercom. "Boss, the deep dive will take hours, but I pulled their immediate financials and a flagged asset log."

Ernest opened the document. His eyes scanned the Fletcher Corporation's financial statements. A cold sneer touched his lips. "Insolvent. A pile of garbage. They are drowning in debt."

He scrolled down to the asset log. The notes on the crystal box were brief, pulled from an old probate record: Belonged to biological mother, Ione Dale. Material unknown. Currently in Donita Fletcher's possession.

Ernest locked the tablet. He turned his head and looked at Kaylee. She was curled up in the corner of the seat, shivering. A strange, violent urge to protect her flared up in his chest. He didn't bother analyzing it.

The Maybach turned onto the wealthy streets of Long Island. The massive iron gates of the Fletcher estate came into view.

The gates were wide open. Parked right in the middle of the driveway was a tacky, oversized stretch Lincoln. Mitch Ziegler's car.

Kaylee saw the vehicle. Her pupils shrank. Her breathing turned into rapid, shallow gasps. She pressed her back hard against the leather seat, trying to put distance between herself and the house.

Ernest noticed her panic. His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Edson. Drive straight through. Ram anything in the way."

The Maybach's engine growled. The car didn't slow down. It shot through the gates, swerved violently around the Lincoln, and slammed on the brakes right in front of the main doors.

Kaylee sucked in a lungful of air. She put her hand on the door handle. She had to face those monsters alone.

"What are you doing?" Ernest's voice was freezing.

Kaylee looked back at him. She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I'll just run in and grab it. I'll be fast. You don't have to-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Ernest pushed his door open. He stepped out, walked around the back of the car, and yanked her door open from the outside.

"Get out," he commanded. "I am walking in with you."