Too Late Mr CEO: Watch Me Reign

Felicity dragged her exhausted body into the penthouse apartment.

She kicked off her soaked heels and peeled the ruined, wine-stained dress from her skin, throwing it directly into the trash can. Her hands shook as she pulled her suitcase from the closet. She began throwing her clothes, her files, her life into the open luggage. She moved with frantic, jerky motions, her chest heaving with every breath.

The digital lock on the front door beeped.

Ellsworth walked in, bringing the freezing dampness of the storm with him. He reached behind him and locked the deadbolt. The heavy click echoed in the silent apartment, severing her only escape route.

He looked at the chaotic mess on the floor, then at her suitcase. His brow furrowed deeply.

"What kind of tantrum is this now?" he demanded, his voice dropping into that cold, authoritative register he used to crush his opponents in the boardroom.

Felicity zipped up the suitcase. The metal teeth caught, and she yanked it hard. She stood up, her spine rigid, and looked him dead in the eye.

"I am officially resigning from all my positions at the Mckinney Group," she stated. Her voice was completely flat. "And this secret arrangement of ours is over."

Ellsworth let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and hurled it against the wall. The zipper burst. Her clothes scattered across the hardwood floor like dead leaves.

"You don't get to make that decision," he snarled, his control slipping.

He backed her up until her shoulder blades hit the freezing glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. He pressed his forearm against her collarbone, pinning her in place.

"Camila's condition has deteriorated, and her surgery requires a massive transfusion of Rh-null blood-the golden blood," he said, his words slicing through the air like a scalpel. "It's virtually non-existent in the public banks, but you are a perfect match. You're going to the private clinic tomorrow morning."

Felicity felt as if she had been struck by lightning. The blood drained from her face, leaving her dizzy and nauseous. She stared at his handsome, ruthless face. Three years. She had stayed by his side for three years, thinking she meant something to him.

She was just a mobile blood bank for his savior.

She thrashed against him, pushing her hands against his solid chest. "Let me go!"

Ellsworth grabbed her wrists, his grip tightening until her bones ground together. A sharp, blinding pain shot up her arms. The tears she swore she wouldn't shed spilled over her lashes.

He stared at the wet tracks on her cheeks. His chest tightened painfully, a strange sensation he immediately forced down. His expression hardened into stone.

"Eight a.m. Be there," he ordered.

Felicity used every ounce of strength she had left to rip her hands free. She stumbled sideways, grabbing the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table. She smashed it onto the floor. Shards of thick glass exploded outward.

She dropped to her knees, grabbed a jagged, bloody piece of crystal, and pressed the sharp edge directly against the blue veins of her own wrist.

"I will drain myself on this floor before I give her a single drop," Felicity hissed, her eyes wide and feral.

Ellsworth froze. The color leached from his face as he stared at the glass biting into her skin. He took a slow step back.

"You're out of your fucking mind," he cursed, his voice tight. He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

Felicity collapsed onto the floor among the glass shards. She wrapped her arms around her knees, her body trembling violently.

Before she could even catch her breath, loud, aggressive pounding hammered against the door.

She dragged herself up and opened it. Mitch Kowalski, the building's property manager, stood in the hallway with two massive security guards. His face was a mask of corporate indifference.

Mitch shoved a piece of paper into her face. "Notice of immediate eviction."

"What?" Felicity gasped, her throat raw.

"The formal legal notice will be served in twenty-four hours, but as of this second, the corporate housing clause is suspended. I've already cut the power, water, and internet to this unit," Mitch said, a smug smile playing on his lips. "My guards will be stationed right outside this door to restrict your access. You can either pack your things in the dark and leave voluntarily tonight, or wait for the sheriff to drag you out tomorrow."

"My name is on the secondary lease," Felicity argued, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Null and void under the legal department's mandatory clauses," Mitch shot back. He gestured to the guards. "Help her pack."

The guards didn't wait for her to argue. They shoved past her, intentionally kicking over the half-filled cardboard boxes she had started packing earlier. "We're just doing a preliminary security sweep of company property," Mitch sneered as her folders burst open. Her personal documents and photos scattered across the carpet. Doors down the hall cracked open as wealthy neighbors peeked out to watch the spectacle.

Realizing they were going to terrorize her all night if she stayed, Felicity swallowed the bile in her throat. She crouched down, her hands shaking as she picked up her papers one by one. Mitch stood above her, letting out a quiet, contemptuous snort.

She stood up slowly, clutching the messy stack of papers to her chest. She locked eyes with Mitch. Her gaze was so cold, so entirely devoid of life, that Mitch actually took a step back.

"You will pay for this," she whispered, her voice like cracking ice.

She picked up her last box and walked into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off Mitch's ugly sneer. She was thrown out of the place she had called home for three years.

Outside, the midnight sky tore open. Torrential rain flooded the streets of New York.

Felicity stood under a broken bus shelter, clutching her cardboard box. She was soaked to the bone, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

A sleek black Maybach sped past her, hitting a massive puddle. A wave of filthy, freezing water splashed over her legs, ruining the last clean clothes she owned. Through the tinted rear window, she saw Ellsworth. He was gently draping his suit jacket over Camila's shoulders.

That single image killed the last, pathetic piece of weakness inside her.

Felicity wiped the dirty rainwater from her face. She pulled out her phone. The screen was cracked from the fall, but it still worked. She found the text from the unknown number. She took a deep breath of the freezing air and hit call.

It rang once.

"Have you thought it through?" a low, lazy, incredibly dangerous male voice asked over the sound of the storm.

"I'll agree to whatever you want," Felicity screamed over the thunder, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone. "Just help me destroy him."

The man chuckled softly. He rattled off an address in Tribeca. "Now call a taxi to this address."

Felicity flagged down a late-night taxi. When she gave the driver the address, he glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening in surprise. It was a location known only to the absolute apex predators of the city.

The cab tore through the rain. Felicity watched the blurry neon lights bleed across the window. She buried her love and her fear in the storm.

She stepped out in front of a fortress-like building made of armored glass. She pressed the call button on the biometric scanner.

The heavy metal doors slid open silently. A blinding white light spilled out from the lobby, welcoming her into the dark.