Mr Ford’s Wife

Introduction

It was his stepbrother—rude and as overbearing as ever—interrupting the moment just as Elena drew near. Ford clenched his jaw, annoyed, as the brief connection slipped away.

“So, you came early? Are you that desperate to take charge?” Fredrick asked, pulling his glasses down slightly to get a clearer look at Ford.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, Ford shook his head. “You never fail to get on my nerves. But tell me, why did you even bother showing up at the party?” he asked, exhaling a stream of smoke deliberately aimed in Fredrick’s direction, watching as it swirled in front of his brother’s face.

Fredrick waved the smoke away, his irritation visible as he replied, “And why shouldn’t I be here? Dad said he’s arranged for us to meet some ladies. Technically, I have every right to be here. But let me ask you this—he’s presenting women for us to marry and, at the same time, saying that whoever marries first takes over the business. Is he trying to make things even more complicated?”

Ford leaned back, the amusement fading slightly from his expression. “And why are you asking me? I couldn’t care less,” he said with irritation. “Now, please leave me alone. I was actually enjoying some entertainment before you decided to show up.”

Fredrick shrugged, his tone laced with defiance. “Whatever. Just know I’m not backing down,” he said as he turned and exited the balcony, leaving Ford alone once more.

As soon as Fredrick left, Ford’s eyes instinctively returned to the spot where the mysterious crying woman had been standing. But she was no longer there. He cursed under his breath, frustrated. He could swear she looked familiar, but Fredrick’s untimely interruption had cost him the chance to confirm it.

Still, something about the situation lingered in his mind. His father’s recent ultimatum echoed in his head: the first son to marry would take over the family empire. But if that was the case, why was their father presenting women to both of them now? Ford knew Fredrick well enough to understand that his stepbrother would marry just about anyone if it meant securing power.

A small smile played on Ford’s lips. It was already too late for Fredrick—Ford was already married. The thought was satisfying, but his amusement quickly faded as the reality set in. His so-called wife, the woman he had wed under questionable circumstances, was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t heard from her in ages, and her absence only added to his growing annoyance.

Just as he was lost in thought, a familiar voice interrupted. “Ford, I’ve been searching for you everywhere! What are you doing out here? Your dad’s been asking for you,” a friend said, approaching with urgency.

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Fredrick said he hadn’t seen me, didn’t he?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, but I knew something was off. Your dad’s about to make an announcement. Let’s go. Hurry up!”

Ford couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Fredrick had lied—no surprise there. “Thanks, man,” he said, tossing his cigarette and straightening his jacket.

The two men quickly made their way back inside, their footsteps echoing down the hall as Ford prepared himself for whatever revelation his father was about to deliver. Deep down, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the evening’s drama was far from over.

Standing before the crowd were men and women of immense wealth, power, and influence. They were dressed impeccably, each exuding an air of importance. As soon as Mr. Lugard took hold of the microphone, the room fell silent. All eyes were on him. His commanding presence demanded attention, and no one dared to utter a sound.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep, authoritative voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. “It’s a pleasure to have you all here tonight. As the year comes to an end, let us celebrate, share joy, and be merry. I also have an important announcement. I will be stepping down, and one of my sons will take over as the head of this family and its empire. I urge each of you to extend your support to whoever assumes this responsibility. Thank you.”

Polite applause filled the room, accompanied by cheers of encouragement. The air was charged with anticipation as everyone speculated about who would inherit Mr. Lugard’s vast empire.

Ford stood in the corner, watching the proceedings with a neutral expression. His eyes, however, betrayed the storm brewing within him. He could see Fredrick and his mother laughing together as though they had already won. Deep down, Ford felt a wave of resentment toward his father. He loathed the idea of sharing what should have been his birthright. He knew that Fredrick’s mother had influenced this decision. She was cunning—a woman who excelled at manipulation, always playing the long game to secure her son’s future.

Meanwhile, across the room, Elena was nursing her fourth glass of champagne. The alcohol was beginning to take effect, leaving her feeling slightly unsteady. She knew she should stop, but the encounter with her stepmother on the balcony still weighed heavily on her mind. Her thoughts were clouded, her emotions jumbled, and drinking seemed like the only way to dull the confusion. She had intended to move forward with her plans tonight, but now she doubted her ability to go through with them. All she could do was drink and hope to forget, if only for a moment.

“Elena? Is that you?”

She was about to lift another glass when a familiar voice froze her in place. Slowly, she turned, her heart sinking as her eyes landed on a face she had never expected—nor wanted—to see again.

“Daniel… You?” Her voice faltered, and the words caught in her throat. The initial shock quickly gave way to anger, her body tensing as memories she had tried to bury surfaced with painful clarity. Without another word, she turned away, determined not to engage.

But Daniel wasn’t about to let her go. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on me?” she snapped, her voice laced with fury as she turned to face him.

“Please, Elena. Just hear me out. Let’s talk,” Daniel pleaded, his voice soft but desperate.

Her expression hardened, her eyes narrowing with pure disdain. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Leave me the hell alone!”

As she struggled to free her hand from his grip, her abrupt movement caused her to bump into a passing waiter carrying a tray of glasses filled with wine. The tray tipped, and the glasses crashed to the ground, their contents spilling everywhere.