Chapter 3: Bring home a wife
Spitting out in disgust, Mrs. Johnson stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor, leaving Elena clutching her burning cheek, tears streaming down her face.
"You're back," Jane's voice cut through the silence like a blade, dripping with sarcasm. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her figure outlined by the dim hallway light. Her cold, piercing gaze met Elena's tear-streaked face, and the corners of her mouth curled into a sneer.
Elena turned slowly, her trembling fingers still pressed to her cheek, only to be met with Jane's unmasked disdain.
"You know," Jane began, her voice thick with mockery as she rolled her eyes dramatically, "it's best if you behave like you don't exist. Just stay quiet, insignificant, and invisible—until you're married off like the burden you are." She tossed her words over her shoulder and strode away, her laughter echoing faintly in the distance.
Elena stood frozen, the weight of the slap forgotten as the sting of Jane's words lingered. Her chest heaved as she fought the tears threatening to spill over. Slowly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her trembling hand and shuffled toward her bed.
She sat down, her legs feeling heavy, her mind spinning. The slap was nothing—it wasn't the first, and it wouldn't be the last. It had become routine ever since her father handed the reins of her life to these women who relished every moment of control. But this time, the pain wasn't just physical.
It was the conversation she overheard, the whispered plans about marrying her off to some stranger. The very thought twisted her stomach in knots. She could handle their cruelty, their slaps, and their venomous words—but not this. Not being sold off for influence and power like a pawn in their game.
Her resolve hardened. She wouldn't let them dictate her life, not this time. Her mind raced, and a daring idea formed. She thought of the guy she had recently met. They hadn't known each other long, but desperation had dulled her sense of caution.
If she had to fake love to escape this nightmare, so be it. She would bring him into this charade, pretend he was her boyfriend, even marry him temporarily if she had to. Divorce could come later. Anything was better than succumbing to her father's plans.
Her jaw clenched, and her fists tightened around the fabric of her dress. If they wanted a game, she would play it on her terms.
Picking up her phone with trembling hands, Elena scrolled frantically through her contacts until she found his number. She pressed the call button, her heart pounding with hope, but the call didn't go through. She tried again. And again. Each time, the cold voice on the other end repeated the same message: unreachable.
Defeated, she let the phone slip from her hand and sank back onto the bed, her gaze locking onto the ceiling. Her mind churned with restless thoughts, dark scenarios of what her life could become if she didn't find a way out. The weight of uncertainty pressed on her chest like a storm cloud threatening to burst.
---
Ford pulled into the driveway, his face set like stone. Handing his car keys to one of the male servants, he gestured dismissively. "Park it properly," he muttered, his tone clipped.
He was late for the family dinner—again. Not that it mattered to him. Family dinners had long ceased to mean anything. Entering the house, he found the dining room alive with quiet tension. Everyone was seated, their expressions a mix of annoyance and forced politeness. The food lay untouched, waiting for him.
Without apology or acknowledgment, he strode to the nearest vacant chair and sat down. He could feel their stares, their silent judgments cutting into him, but he didn't care.
"Welcome, son," his father greeted, his voice laced with strained patience. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, even if it meant keeping us waiting." The old man's words held more weight than his frail frame suggested, but Ford simply nodded, his eyes fixed on the glass of water in front of him.
"Welcome, big bro," Lily chimed in, her tone warm despite the awkward atmosphere. She was the only one Ford could tolerate. He gave her a curt nod, his expression softening briefly before returning to its usual guardedness.
"Welcome, Ford," came another voice—this time from the woman seated beside his father. She was the second wife, the intruder who had disrupted what little peace his family once had. Ford's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
"You know," Fred, his stepbrother, interjected with a sneer, "it's bad enough you think you're some kind of god, arriving late as always. But the least you could do is show a little respect and acknowledge us."
Fred's words hung in the air, dripping with resentment. Ford didn't even bother to look his way. Instead, he adjusted his tie with deliberate slowness, picked up his glass, and downed the water in one gulp.
The tension in the room thickened, but Ford remained unbothered. The only person he cared to acknowledge was Lily. Though adopted, she was the only one among them who hadn't been tainted by deceit or selfish ambition.
To him, the rest were nothing more than hypocrites, each hiding behind a mask. His father, seated at the head of the table, clung to an image of authority while remaining oblivious to the lies around him. The second wife, smug and calculating, oozed insincerity. And her son, Fred, was just as conniving as his mother.
Ford's lips twitched in disdain. To him, this wasn't a family—it was a battlefield, and he had no intention of playing by their rules.
Mr. Lugard could sense the rising tension crackling through the air like static. His calm voice broke the silence. "This gathering is not for fighting. I would greatly appreciate it if you could all conduct yourselves properly—at least for today."
Margaret, Fred's mother, leaned closer to her husband, her hand resting lightly on his back as she offered him a reassuring smile. Her gestures, so calculated and possessive, sent a wave of irritation coursing through Ford. The sight of her hands on his father's shoulders felt like a deliberate provocation.
He clenched his fists beneath the table, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he tried to mask his frustration. Noticing his reaction, Margaret smoothed her hand over Mr. Lugard's graying hair with an exaggerated fondness, her smug smile firmly in place.
Ford turned his gaze away sharply, his knuckles white as he fought to remain indifferent. "If this is leading somewhere, it'd be best if you get to the point," he said coolly. "Some of us actually have work to do, unlike others."
Mr. Lugard cast a measured glance at his son but chose not to react. Instead, he sighed deeply. "Of course. Let's eat," he said finally, signaling the end of the tense exchange.
The clinking of cutlery soon filled the room as everyone silently began their meals. Ford picked at the pineapples on his plate, his appetite dulled by the charged atmosphere. The quiet was broken when Mr. Lugard placed his utensils down deliberately, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and took a sip of water.
Clearing his throat, he began, "I've come to a decision. After much thought, I've decided to step down as CEO of Zelinc Group of Companies. From the Food and Services department to Pharmaceuticals, Electronics, Manufacturing, and every other division—I'm passing the reins to one of you." His gaze shifted between Ford and Fred, his tone firm but steady. "The other will work under his brother."
Fred's face lit up, his grin wide and triumphant. "Dad, it's about time!" he said, barely able to contain his excitement. "You should've done this sooner. Trust me, I've got what it takes to carry the company forward." He puffed out his chest like a child eager for approval.
"Dad, are you sure about this?" Lily's voice trembled with concern, her brows knitting together. "Are you feeling alright?"
Mr. Lugard smiled softly, reaching out to pat her hand. "I'm fine, Lily," he assured her. "But it's high time one of your brothers took over. I'm already an assemblyman, and my responsibilities are growing. I can't keep managing everything."
Ford sat motionless, his face a carefully crafted mask of indifference, though his mind churned with questions. Why this sudden decision? What had prompted his father to act now? Still, he kept his emotions in check, his eyes fixed on the pineapple slices on his plate.
"What do you have to say about this, Ford?" Mr. Lugard's question cut through the room like a knife, drawing everyone's attention to him.
Ford exhaled slowly, finally setting his fork down. He reached for his handkerchief, wiping his mouth with deliberate precision. "What do you expect me to say?" he asked, his tone detached. "Do as you wish."
Fred's triumphant grin faltered, replaced by a scowl. He hated how their father always sought Ford's opinion, even when Ford acted like he couldn't care less. "For once, show some concern!" Fred snapped.
Ignoring him, Mr. Lugard continued, "And regarding my earlier instructions—about both of you bringing home wives…"
"Marriage?" Lily interjected, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Yes," Mr. Lugard confirmed. "I asked both of them to find wives. But since that doesn't seem to be happening, I've taken matters into my own hands." He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I've already chosen wives for the two of you. You'll be meeting them soon."
"What?" Ford's usually impassive demeanor cracked, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Prepare yourselves," Mr. Lugard said, rising from the table with an air of finality. "It's done."
With that, he walked away, leaving the room in stunned silence. Ford's hands curled into fists once more, his mind reeling with anger and frustration at his father's unyielding authority.