Ford to the Resue

Ready to explain, Elena knew they were waiting for her. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the tense tableau before her.

Her stepmother and father stood together, their faces twisted in anger, while Jane, her stepsister, sat on the couch with her arms crossed, a smug expression plastered on her face. All of them seemed fuming with rage, and the pile of her bags on the floor made the situation abundantly clear.

"Dad, what's happening?" Elena asked, her voice trembling with confusion. She looked at her father, searching for answers, but his cold demeanor sent a chill down her spine. She knew they were upset, but she hadn't expected it to escalate to this—being thrown out of her own father's house.

Her thoughts raced as panic set in. Where was she supposed to go? Who would take her in? Desperation clawed at her as she looked around the room, hoping for a shred of understanding, but all she saw were angry faces.

Looking at the man she once proudly called her father, Elena was struck by the cold disdain and disgust etched into his face. It was a look that cut deeper than any words could.

"Dad, I can explain! Please, everyone just needs to calm down. It's not what you think—it's all a misunderstanding!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. Anxiety gripped her, making her hands shake as she tried to hold herself together.

"Bitch, how do you know Ford?!" Jane thundered from her seat, her voice dripping with anger. Her accusation rang out loudly, silencing Elena's attempts to explain.

"I… I know him from somewhere," Elena stammered, her confusion and fear evident. Her mind raced as she grappled with how to begin explaining the truth. Should she tell them she met Ford on a website? Should she admit that she hired him to pretend to be her husband? Either way, it sounded like a web of deceit, and she could already see how her explanation would be twisted against her.

Rubbing her temples in frustration, she tried to find the right words, but Jane wasn't having it. "You see, Mom? I told you she has nothing to say," Jane sneered, leaning back smugly with her arms crossed.

"No, wait! I can explain!" Elena cried out again, but her voice broke as her father turned and walked out of the room without a word. Watching him leave made her heart sink further, but the nightmare wasn't over.

Her stepmother, fueled by Jane's words, continued to grab Elena's clothes and throw them out onto the driveway. Dresses, shoes, and personal belongings scattered across the ground.

"Please, stop! Just listen to me!" Elena pleaded, rushing forward and grabbing her stepmother tightly around the waist in a desperate attempt to halt her. Tears cascaded down Elena's face, her breathing ragged as she clung on, her hands trembling. Her voice was shaky, her words drenched in despair, but her stepmother's fury burned hotter than ever.

Without warning, a resounding slap struck Elena's cheek with brutal force, the sharp sting causing her head to snap to the side. The impact left a searing pain that spread across her face, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. For a fleeting moment, silence engulfed the space as everyone froze. Elena's body stiffened, her mind reeling in shock. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand to her cheek, now flushed red with a mixture of raw pain and overwhelming humiliation.

Her stepmother's glare pierced through her, her eyes blazing with unrestrained anger. "Get out of this house, Elena! You're no longer welcome here!" she hissed venomously, her voice sharp and serious.

Elena's legs quivered beneath her, her knees threatening to give way under the crushing weight of the situation. She looked around the room, her tear-filled eyes searching desperately for anyone who might offer her solace, but found none. Jane, seated calmly on the couch, merely smirked with an air of malicious satisfaction, her lips curling as if savoring the chaos. Elena's stepmother, showing no hint of hesitation, had already turned her back and was furiously gathering more of Elena's belongings to throw outside like unwanted trash.

Driven by a faint hope, Elena scrambled toward Jane, falling to her knees with a thud. She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture, her voice cracking with desperation. "Please, Jane, talk to your mother for me. I would never, never intentionally try to take the man you love. I swear it! In fact, take him—he's yours. I don't want him. Please, help me!" Elena's voice broke as she begged, her words pouring out like a torrent, her entire body trembling with despair.

Laughing mockingly, Jane sneered, "Oh, now you can beg? How pathetic. Well, it's too late. Our minds are made up." With a deliberate motion, she pushed Elena's hands off the fabric of her dress, her expression dripping with contempt.

Elena froze for a moment, realizing it was futile to beg Jane for any form of help. Jane's satisfaction was evident—there would be no mercy here.

Steeling herself, Elena picked herself up from the floor, her legs wobbling but determined. She turned toward her stepmother, who was still dragging her belongings out of the house like unwanted debris. Desperation consuming her, Elena rushed forward, her voice breaking as she pleaded, "Please! I have nowhere to go!" She reached for her stepmother's wrist, her trembling hands attempting to stop the relentless eviction.

Mrs. Johnson's fury, already at its peak, overflowed as she yanked her wrist free and shoved Elena backward. The force sent Elena stumbling, barely managing to steady herself before she fell. Mrs. Johnson, satisfied with her dominance, turned back to the doorway, where she finished tossing the last of Elena's belongings outside. With venomous disdain, she spun around, grabbed Elena roughly by the wrist, and tightened her grip.

Elena struggled, pulling back with all her strength, her voice rising in protest. "This is my mother's house too!" she shouted, her voice raw with both anger and heartbreak as she fought against her stepmother's grasp.

Mrs. Johnson's eyes narrowed, and Jane's cold, scornful voice cut through the room like a blade. "Your mother's dead, you pathetic bitch! My mom's the one in charge now! You should be grateful we even let you stay here for this long. Nobody needs you, so get out!" Jane's words were laced with spite, her tone dripping with cruelty.

Suddenly, a commanding voice boomed through the room, shaking everyone to their core. "Get your filthy hands off my wife!" Ford's deep, authoritative tone echoed, stopping both Mrs. Johnson and Jane in their tracks.

Mrs. Johnson, startled and visibly shaken, immediately let go of Elena's wrist in fright.

"Oh, F-Ford, you're here," she stammered, her voice trembling, her earliar boldness and firmness quickly replaced by fear.

Ford stepped forward with a calm yet intimidating presence, his sharp eyes cutting into Mrs. Johnson like daggers. His voice was firm, cold, and filled with restrained fury as he said, "I chose her. I need her. She's mine. Don't you ever think you have any right over her again. Consider this your only warning—to both of you." His words carried an unmistakable finality, leaving no room for argument.

Turning his attention to Elena, Ford's piercing gaze softened. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes filled with pain and exhaustion. Watching as a single tear rolled down her cheek, he reached out gently, brushing it away with his thumb. His touch was tender, and he offered her a weak yet comforting smile, his expression filled with reassurance.

"Don't beg anyone. You have me now," he calmly said, his voice steady and reassuring. Elena was too stunned to respond. She couldn't find the words, her mind racing. He was supposed to have been gone a long time.

What was he doing there? She couldn't understand. All she could do was let him lead her—her strength was spent, and she was too weak to keep fighting her stepmother. "Let's go," he said firmly, taking her hand with a gentle yet decisive grip. Without another word, he strode out of the sitting room, guiding her away from the chaos.

When they stepped outside, Elena's eyes landed on her belongings scattered haphazardly across the ground. She winced at the sight, her heart aching.

"Leave them. I'll get you new ones," he said softly, his tone carrying both resolve and comfort as he gently led her toward his car.

Inside the house, Jane stood rooted to the spot, her mouth slightly agape. She was completely taken aback by what had just unfolded. "Mom… did he just call her his wife?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. Her question hung in the air, unanswered.

Mrs. Johnson was at a loss for words. She stood there, her face twisted with a mix of anger and regret, unable to respond to her daughter. All she could do was grit her teeth in frustration, her mind reeling with the realization of her mistake. She knew, in that moment, that she had outdid herself in front of Ford.

Jane's shock quickly turned to anger. "Mom! I asked you a question. Are they married?" she demanded, her voice sharp with fury. Mrs. Johnson didn't have the courage to face her daughter's outrage. She stayed silent, letting Jane vent her frustration without interruption.

Meanwhile, in the car, Elena sat quietly, her emotions overwhelming her. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared out of the window, her heart heavy yet strangely light at the same time. She couldn't believe what had just happened—that someone had finally stood up for her, protecting her in a way she hadn't experienced in so long.

"Are you alright?" Ford soothing voice asked.