Chapter 12: Second Uncle

A skyscraper soared into the clouds, prominently displaying the logo of the Ford Group. Everyone entering and exiting was dressed in business attire, the very picture of elite professionals.

A car slowly pulled to a stop at the entrance. A moment later, two figures, one large and one small, emerged.

Samuel Ford glanced at his son, who stood three meters away. He didn’t force him to come closer, simply saying, "Keep up."

Jean Vance tore his eyes away, watched the man’s back, and began to follow.

Due to his small stature, the receptionist didn’t notice him at first. She was surprised to see President Ford swipe his access card but not walk through the gate. It was only when she spotted the little guy behind him that it clicked.

’Is that the young heir?’

’Rumor has it President Ford has a son, but the mother’s identity is a mystery. The Ford Family has guarded him so well that no one has ever seen his face. So why bring him to the office today?’

Once they were in the elevator, the receptionist excitedly opened a private group chat—one without any managers—and quickly spread the news.

Upstairs, the Ford Group’s elite employees were dumbfounded. ’President Ford brought the young heir with him?’

’Are we finally going to see what the legendary young heir looks like?’

Before they could say a word, the doors of the private elevator to the president’s office opened. Everyone quickly placed their hands back on their keyboards, stealing glances out of the corners of their eyes at the arrivals.

’So that’s the young heir?’

’He’s so adorable!’

His chubby little face made you want to give his cheeks a pinch. He was dressed in a tiny suit, trailing President Ford with the same deadpan expression. On President Ford, that look was imposing, making people afraid to meet his gaze. But on this miniature version of him, it created an adorable contrast. It was so cute that the women in the office were dying to sweep him into their arms for a good cuddle!

However, those were just thoughts. None of them would ever actually dare to do it.

Sensing their stares, Jean Vance walked on without a change in expression. He had already formed a general impression of the Ford Group.

’They’re very rich.’

’Even just leasing an entire building in the most expensive part of the financial district would cost a fortune.’

’And given this man’s personality, he probably bought it outright.’

’He’d taken on plenty of jobs from The Hacker Alliance and earned a decent amount of money, but compared to this man, it was just a drop in the bucket.’

At this thought, Jean Vance’s brows furrowed again. ’I’m still too weak.’

"What are you thinking about?" Seeing him standing frozen in the doorway with his brow tightly knit, as if deeply troubled, Samuel raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Do you have a problem with my company?"

"No." Jean Vance shot him a glance and said flatly, "I need a computer."

Samuel Ford simply handed him the laptop from his desk.

Jean Vance took the laptop, walked over to the sofa, and sat down. The sofa was so soft that he sank deep into the cushions, but even so, his back remained ramrod straight. He opened the computer, and it booted to the home screen in a single second.

’He was inwardly surprised. He hadn’t expected the computer to be so fast. But then again, the man was rich. Of course, he’d only use the best of the best.’

His fingers flew across the keyboard. In just two or three minutes, he had written a script that would prevent any of his activities on the computer from leaving a trace.

Once that was done, he opened a browser and typed in a URL. A dark-themed interface quickly appeared on the screen, displaying three words in large font: The Hacker Alliance.

He expertly logged into his account and began browsing the mission board, selecting the one with the highest payout.

’He had to start earning serious money, too. He couldn’t let Mom have a worse life with him than she would have had with this man.’

Seeing the boy sitting there quietly, Samuel Ford paid him no mind and sat down to tackle the paperwork that had piled up over the past few days. For a time, the only sounds in the office were the rustling of documents and the tapping of keys.

The silence in the room was finally shattered when a man burst in, wailing dramatically.

"Bro! You’re finally back!"

The man threw his arms around Samuel Ford, wailing as if they’d been separated for decades.

The commotion made Jean Vance look up. The newcomer appeared to be around twenty-four or twenty-five and bore a slight resemblance to Samuel Ford, though their personalities were worlds apart.

The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a well-defined collarbone. He sported a head of fiery red hair and didn’t look like the serious type at all.

Having reached his conclusion, Jean Vance lost interest and looked away.

Shawn Ford, unaware that he was being silently roasted, clung to Samuel Ford and wailed dramatically. "Bro," he cried at the top of his lungs, "I’ve been cheated on!"

Samuel Ford shoved him away in disgust and straightened his wrinkled suit. "Since when do you have a girlfriend?" he asked.

"Little Red! Have you forgotten?" Shawn Ford said, pulling up a chair.

Samuel Ford thought for a moment. "The sports car?"

"Yes, Little Red! She’s my one true love! I was planning on saving up enough to bring her home, but someone beat me to it and bought her! WAAAH, my life is so tragic! Are Little Red and I destined to never be together?"

His wailing was unbearable. Samuel Ford’s brow twitched. "Shut up."

Shawn Ford instantly went quiet, giving his brother a pitiful look. ’If he hadn’t frozen his cards, it’s not like he couldn’t afford eighty million.’

Reading his mind, Samuel Ford scoffed. "You have the nerve to complain? Don’t you know what you did?"

’If he hadn’t gone and spouted nonsense in front of Felix Ford, would the boy have run away?’

Shawn Ford remembered the incident as well and was too guilt-ridden to speak. He had only been speaking offhandedly; who knew the little guy had such a temper? Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, is Colt back now?"

"Mhm." Samuel Ford nodded, jutting his chin toward the sofa. Shawn followed his gaze and only then realized someone else was sitting there.

Surprised, he walked over and ruffled the boy’s hair. "Colt! Why didn’t you greet me? I used to be your favorite. What, are you still mad at your Second Uncle?"

His neatly styled hair now a mess, Jean Vance frowned and scooted away. After smoothing his hair back down, he said flatly, "No."

Seeing his reaction, Shawn Ford blinked in confusion. He didn’t think much of it, just assuming the boy was still mad. With a wide grin, he pulled something from his pocket. "Ta-da! Look what I brought you."

It was a lollipop.

Jean Vance gave him a blank stare, the kind of look you’d give an idiot.

Unable to watch his brother act like a fool any longer, Samuel Ford cut in, "Who bought the car?"

The topic immediately revived Shawn Ford’s spirits. He said indignantly, "I have no idea. All I know is the name is Amanda Vance. Sounds like a woman. What a shame for my Little Red. Such a complete waste, letting her ruin it like that."

Jean Vance’s head snapped up the moment he heard the name Amanda Vance. When he heard the rest of the sentence, he retorted, "How is it a complete waste? How is she ruining it?"

’Even a professional racer like Mr. Jobs can’t match Mom’s skills. That car will only reach its true potential in her hands.’

It was rare to see the boy defend someone so fiercely—a stranger, no less. Samuel Ford gave him a thoughtful look but said nothing.

Shawn Ford was stunned for a second, then replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "All women are terrible drivers! Even the ones who are ’good’ just manage not to crash. They can only drive a sports car like a normal car. Isn’t that a waste? Sports cars weren’t made to be driven at thirty or forty miles per hour."

Jean Vance sneered. "You’re talking about *some* women, not all of them. There’s no rule in this world that says only men can be great at something."

’At least, very few men could ever hope to match his mom.’