Elena's eyes widened in surprise at Ford's words. "Marry you?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Yes. Let's get married," he repeated, flashing a smile that only made her more nervous.
The last time Elena checked, she was the one in desperate need of help. How had the situation escalated so quickly and taken such an intense turn?
Nervously, she bit her fingers, a bad habit she'd never been able to shake.
"Miss Elena," Ford said, his voice calm yet commanding, "you can order anything you wish instead of biting your fingers."
Her hands dropped instantly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was second nature for her to chew her fingers whenever she was nervous or worked up, and she hated how obvious her anxiety was. Despite her countless efforts to quit the habit, it persisted, instead of fighting it she gave up.
Ford glanced at his watch, his brows furrowing. He clearly had somewhere else to be. Looking at Elena, who seemed lost in thought, he sighed quietly. He was sure She wasn't going to give him an answer anytime soon.
He signaled to the waiter, who approached swiftly. He whispered some words, after which the waiter nodded and hurriedly left.
"Miss Elena," Ford said as he rose from his seat, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape. "I have an urgent matter to attend to, so I'll leave you to think over my proposal. Let me know once you've made your decision."
Before she could respond, he turned and strode out of the restaurant.
Elena sat there, her irritation bubbling to the surface. Who does he think he is? she thought angrily. She had rushed to meet him after flying in from the States that very day, only for him to show up late and then leave in a hurry. If only she had the luxury of choice.
Her fuming thoughts were interrupted when three waiters approached her table, each carrying a dish that looked straight out of a gourmet magazine.
"Ma'am," one of the waiters said with a polite smile, "everything has been paid for. Please enjoy your meal."
She blinked in surprise. "Paid? By who?" she asked, though the answer dawned on her immediately. It had to be Ford.
Her cheeks burned again, this time with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. Did he think I was starving just because I was chewing my nails? Do I look that desperate? she wondered.
But the enticing aroma of the food soon overpowered her irritation. She hadn't eaten all day, and her stomach growled in agreement. Deciding not to waste the gesture or the food, even though she looked pathetic she dug in.
When Elena finally arrived home, she moved quietly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Her father hadn't bothered to meet her at the airport, a disappointment she had expected but still stung. She hadn't even considered her stepmother or stepsister showing up—they were firmly out of the question. Deep down, though, she had hoped her father would come through for her, just this once.
Since her father had remarried, everything had changed. Her choices, her freedom—everything was dictated by his need for political success. Sending her to the States for over a year to cover up her pregnancy scandal was just one of many decisions he'd made to protect his image. Now, he was forcing her into another arrangement—marriage to a man she barely knew—all to further his ambitions.
Refusing him wasn't an option, but Elena was determined to come up with a way to regain control over her life.
Tiptoeing through the house, she was relieved to find it mostly silent, save for the faint sound of laughter and whispers coming from her stepmother's room. She paid it no mind, focusing instead on reaching her own room without incident.
But then she heard her name.
She stopped in her tracks, her heart beating faster. Her stepmother and stepsister often spoke about her in hushed tones, but the curiosity was too much to resist. She wondered what they would be saying with her name to make them laugh.
Moving closer to the door, she strained to hear the conversation. The voices were low, forcing her to edge even closer. Just as she was about to catch a clearer word, the servant girl spotted her.
"Miss Elena!" the girl exclaimed softly, her face lighting up.
Elena quickly signaled for her to stay quiet, and the girl obediently nodded before disappearing down the hallway.
Now alone, Elena pressed her ear against the door.
"Mom, I can't wait to meet him! I'll finally be the wife of the son of the richest and most influential assemblyman in the States," her stepsister Jane gushed, her excitement palpable.
"Don't forget to thank your father," her stepmother said smugly. "This was all his doing. You're lucky the assemblyman didn't complain. He was desperate to get both his sons married this year, for reasons only he knows."
"Oh, I'll thank him," Jane replied, her tone dismissive. "But please, don't call him my father. Make sure to say 'stepfather' next time, Mom."
Elena clenched her fists as she listened. Every word felt like a fresh stab. Her father was giving away her life on a silver platter to secure Jane's ambitions, while treating her as nothing more than a pawn.
Suddenly, a cough bubbled up in her throat. She tried desperately to suppress it, her eyes watering from the strain. But it escaped, loud and clear.
The whispers inside the room stopped abruptly.
Elena bolted, her heart pounding as she sprinted to her room. Slamming the door shut behind her, she grabbed the jug of water from her bedside table and gulped it down to soothe her burning throat.
She barely had time to catch her breath before her door swung open violently. Her stepmother stormed in, her face a mask of fury.
"How dare you eavesdrop on me?" she hissed, her hand striking Elena's cheek with a resounding slap.
The sting brought tears to Elena's eyes, but she held her ground.
"You're just like your pathetic mother," Mrs. Johnson spat. "No manners, no class. A useless little slut."