The Domineering CEO’s Deep Obsession

Chapter 2: “Grandma, I Already Have a Woman”

Sissy took the heavy gold-embossed card—only his name and phone number printed on it. From this, she learned his name was Ford. She couldn’t help but notice that, after the initial digits, every number was an “8.” A quick glance was enough to memorize the entire string.

But… what kind of trouble did he mean? The kind she’d been in last night? Despite rescuing her, he’d… well, taken advantage of her seven times. No matter how pitiful she’d sounded, she hadn’t exactly begged him to stop. Did he really expect that to happen again? The thought drained the color from her face.

“Mr. Ford, I—I won’t ever face that kind of trouble again. Goodbye.” She tossed the card to the floor and bolted away.

Ford stared after her in surprise. Rejected? By the one person he’d saved? He, Ford Harrison, CEO of Ford Group, richest man in China, practically the ruler of J City—and some girl refused his card?

His phone buzzed. It was Lincoln, the household butler. “Sir, Grandmother isn’t just refusing her medicine—she tried to throw herself in the river. The doctor says she slipped on the bank, but she’s been hospitalized. You should come home right away.”

Without hesitation, Ford rushed back to the family estate. As he neared the main hall, he heard her wails of pain. He pushed open the bedroom door to find his grandmother pale and fragile on the bed, Lincoln gently massaging her back. In the days he’d been away, her hair had gone even whiter. His heart clenched.

“Where have you been, you little brat?” she scolded through a fit of coughing. “At my age, I should be rocking a great-grandchild, but you won’t even marry! Tonight, I’ve ordered ten eligible beauties—I want each of them introduced to you. You will meet them all!”

Ford sighed. “Grandma, I already… have a woman. I’d rather not—”

Her eyes snapped open. “A woman? Really? Don’t tell me you’re lying just to shut me up.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

She paused, then croaked, “Then bring her home. I want to meet her.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. Inwardly, he cursed himself for speaking so rashly—especially since the image of that young girl’s tear-streaked face kept flashing in his mind. Where had she gone? She’d refused his card and vanished without a trace.

Once he’d soothed his grandmother, Ford slipped out and called his executive assistant, Henry. “Find her,” he said. “Find the woman from last night.”

…

Cradling the single hundred-yuan note her grandmother had given her, Sissy boarded the bus home. The city skyline receded behind her, and tears blurred her vision. Who could have guessed that the esteemed aunt who’d vouched for her night‑club job was really a madam? She’d been sold to a pack of old lechers—five at a time.

At seven, her father had died in a car crash. Soon after, her mother ran off. She was passed around to relatives but was really—by her own choice—raised by her grandmother. She’d spent her childhood cooking, washing, chopping wood, and helping sell tofu at the market. She worked harder than an ox and ate less than a chicken.

Her aunt had always said, “We’ll feed you until you’re eighteen, then it’s your turn to fend for yourself.” Sissy knew there was no hope of college—her family wouldn’t pay for it. She was destined to start working the moment she came of age. She hadn’t expected the world to be this ruthless. She’d come to the big city with nothing—and lost the one thing she could never get back.

The bus finally arrived at Little Fish Village. By the time she stepped off, her eyes were swollen shut. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than Aunt Greta barreled toward her, hurling a ladle full of cold water at her head.

“Good‑for‑nothing brat! How dare you come home? You ran away from the boss I introduced, and you haven’t earned a single cent!”

Sissy pressed her hand to her throbbing head. “That wasn’t a job! She meant… to sell me. Five men at a time!”

Greta sneered. “Money’s hard to come by. If they’ll pay, who cares? Every woman will marry someday—might as well earn while you can.”

Disbelief burned in Sissy’s chest. “You knew what that aunt was doing, and you still sent me?”

Greta’s gaze dropped. “Your uncle and I have loans to pay. Your cousin’s college costs… your grandmother’s surgery. We can’t afford it. You’re an adult now—you owe this family.”

Sissy’s tears flowed anew. She’d been selling tofu for years, handing over every penny. There was nothing left here for her.

“I won’t come back. I’ll find honest work elsewhere,” she said, voice shaking. Her grandmother’s surgery weight on her mind—without that money, Grandma might never walk properly again. She’d endured the pain in silence every night.

Greta sighed. “You can get factory work, but if you want real money, you know who to contact.”

Sissy turned and ran. At the village gate, Uncle Shane emerged, calling, “Sissy—wait!” But she didn’t look back.

In her pocket, her phone beeped—a text from an unknown number ending in a string of eights. Her heart leapt. Could it be…? At that moment, a black Rolls‑Royce rolled up beside her.