The Billionaire's Temptation: Love, Family and Revenge-Chapter 82: The Press Conference (II)

Sitting down she concluded on checking the news, what harm would she commit in doing that but she felt thirsty and need to have a glass of water first.

Dropping the book down, she reached for the kitchen, Elena entered the bright and quiet kitchen, still holding her book gently against her chest. She had come downstairs hoping for a moment of calm and a glass of water to ease the dryness in her throat. But as she stepped inside, something unexpected caught her attention.

Standing by the marble kitchen counter was one of the house servants, a young girl in her early twenties completely lost in her own little world .

The girl was leaning slightly against the counter, her eyes glued to the glowing screen of her phone, her thumbs resting idle as if whatever she was watching had completely captured her full attention.

Elena moved quietly around the room, pouring herself a glass of cold water from the dispenser, but the servant didn’t seem to notice her presence at all. The girl didn’t even flinch at the sound of water filling the glass, and her focus remained locked onto her phone.

Curiosity began to rise in Elena’s mind as she sipped her water. Something about the girl’s stillness and intense focus felt unusual. Setting her glass down, Elena slowly walked closer, her soft footsteps making almost no sound on the cool tiled floor. When she stood just a few feet behind the girl, her ears picked up the faint but clear sound of a familiar voice coming from the small phone speaker.

It was Ford’s voice.

Elena paused for a moment, her eyebrows rising slightly in surprise. She tilted her head, listening more closely, just to be sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. Then, in a soft and curious tone, she asked, "Is that Ford?"

The unexpected sound of Elena’s voice startled the girl like a sudden clap of thunder. The servant flinched, her entire body stiffening as she quickly spun around to face Elena, her face pale and her hands fumbling to hide the phone behind her back. Her wide, nervous eyes searched for an explanation, and her lips parted, struggling to find words.

"Em... not really, Ma. I... I didn’t hear you come in," the girl stammered, her voice shaky and full of panic. "Do you need anything?" she asked, forcing a polite smile and shoving the phone deep into her pocket as if nothing had happened.

Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her voice stayed calm but firm as she answered, "How could you hear me, when you were so deeply engrossed in whatever you were watching?" She stepped closer, leaning lightly on the counter and placing her empty cup down. "And honestly, I’m quite interested in it too. So, no need to be in such a rush to hide it. Since I’ve already taken what I came for, why don’t we watch it together?"

The girl’s hands trembled slightly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Em... Miss Elena, I’m sorry, but I think you heard wrongly," she mumbled, lowering her head and avoiding eye contact, her voice barely above a whisper.

But before the servant could offer any more excuses or finish her sentence, Elena calmly reached toward the girl’s pocket. Without waiting for permission, her fingers slipped into the fabric and pulled out the small phone the girl had tried so hard to hide. Holding it up, she stared at the screen, already certain about what she was going to see.

Ford was about to step away from the stage, thinking he had said all that needed to be said. His firm voice had already cleared the air, and the room was wrapped in a heavy silence, as though no one dared challenge his words. He adjusted the microphone slightly, ready to leave the spotlight behind, when suddenly a voice rose from the sea of reporters.

"Sir," the reporter called out, his tone polite but curious, "do you believe Elena is worthy of a man like you?"

Ford paused for a moment, slowly turning his head toward the direction of the question. The corners of his mouth lifted into the faintest hint of a smile, but his eyes held steady, sharp and thoughtful. His answer came clear and strong.

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You’ve asked the wrong question. What you should be asking is , am I worthy of the kind of loving and kind-hearted person Elena is?"

A soft murmur rippled through the room. His response had surprised them , not defensive, not proud , just honest and humble. The reporter lowered his microphone, visibly caught off guard by the sincerity in Ford’s words.

Before Ford could leave the stage, another question echoed from a different corner of the room. "Sir, don’t you think this might affect the company’s reputation?"

Ford turned his attention to the man who asked the question, lifting his chin with confidence. "No, I don’t believe it will," he replied calmly. "My personal life has nothing to do with my work life. I’ve never once questioned my employees about their wives, their children, or their private matters. I expect the same respect in return. My relationship should not define how I run my business."

The man who had asked the question gave a soft nod, clearly impressed by the clarity and fairness of Ford’s answer. His response carried weight, not just as a businessman, but as a leader who valued both privacy and professionalism.

But the questions didn’t stop there. Once the room saw Ford was still willing to answer, a flood of reporters’ voices rose at once.

"Sir, do you plan on getting married to Elena?" another called out, holding up his recorder.

"Is she getting better, sir?" a different voice asked, referring to Elena’s health.

"Please, sir, can you give us an update on the progress with the new solar panels your company is developing?"

The questions came so quickly, one after another, that it became hard to tell who was speaking. Cameras continued flashing, microphones stretched forward like curious hands, and the room buzzed with eagerness to hear every detail Ford might share.

But just as Ford was about to select one question to answer, a sharp, unexpected voice sliced through the noise. A woman, standing near the middle of the crowd dressed in a plain navy suit and looking to be in her mid-thirties , raised her voice and asked a question that immediately froze the room.

"Sir," she began, "do you think your mother would be proud of your decisions?"

The moment the words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Ford’s expression hardened, the calm on his face disappearing almost instantly. His eyes darkened, and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. He slowly turned to face the woman, and when he spoke, his voice was no longer calm , it was sharp, almost like the crack of thunder.

"How dare you?" he snapped. "You insolent brat! What does my dead mother have to do with any of this?" His voice boomed through the speakers, shaking the room to its core.

For a brief second, the room was absolutely silent, the air thick with tension. Ford stood frozen, feeling the anger pulse in his chest. He clenched his fists slightly, struggling to hold himself back, but deep down he knew if he stood on that stage even a second longer, he would say far more than he had planned. His emotions were on the verge of slipping beyond his control.

With a sharp breath, he stepped away from the microphone. His voice, cold and final, cut through the room one last time. "I suppose this conference has now come to an end," he announced, and without another glance at the crowd, he turned and walked off the stage, his long strides filled with quiet fury.

The room stayed silent for a moment as everyone watched him leave. The woman who had asked the question stood rooted to the spot, her face pale with regret. She bowed her head, her voice shaking as she called out, "I’m sorry, sir... Please forgive my foolish words."

But her apology came too late. The damage was already done.

The people around her glared, their eyes sharp with judgment. A man standing near her clicked his tongue in frustration, shaking his head. "Woman, you should’ve just stayed home if you didn’t have anything sensible to say," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for others to hear. Others around him nodded in agreement, whispering similar thoughts as the conference slowly emptied, still heavy with the tension Ford’s exit had left behind.

Elena stood still, staring at her phone as her fingers slowly loosened their grip and the device slipped from her hand, landing softly on the carpeted floor. Her heart felt heavy, and her mind was spinning with confusion and emotion.

She didn’t know how to feel at that moment should she be angry because everyone had kept the truth from her, or should she be touched by the way he had defended her so fiercely? The mix of emotions swirled inside her, and the more she thought about it, the more lost she felt.