"Stop!" Emma suddenly shouted, startling everyone in the car. The driver slammed on the brakes, the vehicle jerking to a halt in the middle of the street.
Michael, seated in the passenger seat, turned around, his eyes wide with concern. "Miss Whitmore, what's going on?" His tone was edged with panic, as if expecting some kind of emergency.
Emma leaned forward, her eyes narrowed with determination as she locked her gaze on Michael. "Show me this fiancé of mine. His home, his office—wherever he is. I need to meet him. Right now."
Michael blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Miss, I don't think—"
"Don't think," Emma cut him off, her voice sharp. "I've had enough of being told what to do and who to marry without so much as seeing the man's face. Either you show me where he is, or I'll find him myself."
Michael hesitated, glancing at the driver for support, but the man stayed silent, keeping his hands firmly on the wheel. "Miss Whitmore, I don't think your father would—"
