The Billionaire's Temptation: Love, Family and Revenge-Chapter 95: Ford’s Rage

Mr. Johnson stepped quietly into the office, expecting a warm welcome from Ford. He wore a neat navy-blue suit and held his black leather briefcase tightly, trying to appear confident. But the moment Ford raised his head and looked at him, something didn’t feel right. Ford’s eyes burned with cold anger, and the room felt unusually tense.

Mr. Johnson barely had time to greet him when Ford stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His voice thundered with fury.

"Were my words not clear enough?" he snapped, slamming his hand hard on the desk.

Mr. Johnson’s eyes widened in shock. He froze for a moment, unable to speak. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. This was not the reception he had expected. Ford had always been firm but respectful. This... this was different. There was hostility in his tone, like he was holding back something deeper than anger, something personal.

"I’m sorry, sir," Mr. Johnson finally said, standing up quickly from the chair in front of Ford’s desk. His face tightened in frustration. He hated being talked to like that, especially in a place where he once felt respected. But at that moment, he reminded himself who had the upper hand. Ford had power, authority, and influence and Mr. Johnson had none of those things. He was helpless.

Ford looked away from him in disgust. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers tapped impatiently on the side of his laptop. He didn’t even want to look at the man standing before him. The memory of what Mr. Johnson’s family had done to Elena still haunted him. It wasn’t something he could just forgive or forget.

After a moment of silence, Ford finally spoke, his eyes never leaving his laptop screen.

"So, Mr. Johnson... what brings you to my office this morning?"

His voice was low, calm, but still carried a sharp edge. It was the voice of someone who didn’t really care to hear the answer.

Mr. Johnson cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Sir," he began nervously, "I was out of town on a business trip when I got a phone call from my wife. She said our daughter, Jane, had been arrested. I came here hoping to find out why."

He kept his voice calm, careful not to offend Ford any further. His hands were folded in front of him, but his fingers trembled slightly.

Ford slowly lifted his eyes from his laptop. His gaze was piercing as he looked straight into Mr. Johnson’s eyes.

"You mean to tell me... you don’t know what your daughter did?" he asked, his voice heavy with doubt.

Mr. Johnson swallowed hard. The truth was he did know. His wife had already told him everything over the phone. But standing in front of Ford now, he knew he had to lie. If he admitted to knowing, it would only make things worse.

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Johnson nodded slowly. "No, sir. I don’t."

Ford leaned back in his chair, studying him. His eyes were sharp, like he could see right through the lie.

The silence that followed felt thick and heavy, like a storm about to break.

"I’m sorry, sir... I don’t know anything," Mr. Johnson said, his voice shaking slightly. "All I know is that you ordered her arrest."

Ford didn’t even bother to hide the irritation on his face. His eyes narrowed, and the muscles in his jaw tensed. He had heard enough. He didn’t believe a single word Mr. Johnson said. To him, every word coming from the man’s mouth sounded like a carefully rehearsed lie.

Without saying a word, Ford leaned forward, opened one of the drawers of his large oak desk, and pulled out a thick brown envelope. With a quick motion filled with anger, he tossed the envelope onto the floor near Mr. Johnson’s feet. The sound of the paper hitting the tiles echoed in the room, slicing through the silence like a blade.

"Pick it up," Ford said sharply, his voice cold and commanding. "And take a look at what your ’great treasure’ has done."

Mr. Johnson froze for a moment, then swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple rising and falling as he forced down a lump of fear and shame. His hand trembled slightly as he bent down to pick up the envelope. The room felt colder now, though the air conditioning hadn’t changed. Slowly, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents and photographs.

The first photo he saw showed his daughter Jane standing with a man shaking hands in what looked like a quiet, hidden location. Another image captured the man exchanging what appeared to be an envelope filled with money. With growing horror, Mr. Johnson flipped through more pictures.

Then his hands froze.

One of the photos showed a Elena lying motionless on a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires. Her face was pale and her eyes were closed. Another image showed her with a battered face, bruises spread across her cheeks and arms, her lip split open. In one photo, she appeared unconscious; in another, her body looked twisted with pain.

Mr. Johnson’s fingers clutched the file tighter as guilt filled his chest. He quickly placed the photographs back into the folder, unable to look any longer. His hands now felt heavier, and he carefully placed the file back on Ford’s desk, not daring to say a word.

He stood still, not knowing what to do. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He felt small, defeated, and powerless.

Ford, still seated, didn’t even glance at him. "If you’re done," he said, his voice flat and uninterested, "and if you don’t have anything useful to say, then please leave. I have more important things to do than listen to lies and excuses."

Mr. Johnson’s shoulders dropped. He took a breath, then finally spoke in a broken voice. "On behalf of my daughter Jane, I beg for your mercy. Please, forgive her. It was her stupidity and foolishness that led to all this. She wasn’t thinking clearly."

At that, Ford suddenly let out a bitter, humorless laugh. It was loud and sharp, echoing across the walls of the office.

"Stupidity?" Ford repeated mockingly, his eyes burning with emotion. "You call what she did stupidity?"

"Finally," Ford said, his voice thick with sarcasm, "you’ve said something that actually makes sense."

He pushed his chair back slightly and leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on Mr. Johnson. The expression on his face was one of cold satisfaction, his lips curling into a tight, bitter smile.

"Foolish and stupid," he repeated slowly, letting the words sink in. "That’s exactly what your daughter is. I warned her. I told her clearly to keep her eyes and hands off Elena. But she didn’t listen. And now, after everything she’s done, you come here expecting me to just let her go?"

He stood up from his seat, his voice rising with each word. "Oh no. She will pay dearly for this. I’m just getting started."

His tone was confident and determined, like someone who had already made up his mind and wasn’t about to change it. There was no hesitation in his words just raw anger and pain.

Mr. Johnson lowered his eyes, unable to meet Ford’s furious stare. Before he could speak, Ford continued, his words like daggers.

"I doubt Elena is even truly yours," he said, with a scoff. "All the while she was in the hospital, suffering and barely clinging to life, none of you came to see her. Not a call, not even a message asking how she was. No one showed up."

Ford’s laugh echoed in the office loud and filled with disbelief. He shook his head, picked up a pen, and began scribbling something on a paper on his desk, as if Mr. Johnson’s presence was no longer worth his full attention.

"But the moment your precious daughter Jane gets locked up, you come running in here like a mad dog, demanding explanations and justice. Is that not hypocrisy?"

Mr. Johnson stood still, each word hitting him like a slap. His throat felt dry, and his chest was heavy with guilt. He wanted to explain, to say something, anything but he knew Ford was right. There was no excuse. Nothing he could say now would make up for the silence, the abandonment Elena had endured alone.

Desperation filled his voice as he stepped forward slightly. "Sir Ford... what do I do to appease you? Please tell me. I’m begging you.

What must I do to get my daughter out? She can’t stay there any longer. She’s already spent a night in that place. Not another night, sir... please."

Ford raised his eyes slowly, looking at Mr. Johnson like someone observing a stranger.

"You didn’t even try to give an excuse for why no one checked on Elena," he said calmly, but his voice held a deadly edge. "That means it wasn’t a mistake. It was a deliberate act. None of you cared. You threw her out of your house like she was garbage. And as if that wasn’t enough, your deranged, obsessed daughter tried to kill her.

"Get out" Ford thundered in anger.