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."

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.