Chapter 15: The Substitution Stratagem

Samuel Ford was a complete workaholic. He had already lost a few days looking for Felix Ford, and now he wished he could just live at the office. Every day, after telling his son a bedtime story, he would return to his study to work overtime for a while.

Jean Vance found it hard to sleep because of him. Once, when he went downstairs for a drink of water, he saw light spilling from the study, which gave him a deeper understanding of the man.

’A total workaholic.’

He wasn’t in the mood to praise Samuel’s dedication. After a sip of water, he returned to his room and gradually grew drowsy.

The next day, Jean Vance went to the company with him again. Samuel was busy with his work, while Jean focused on his own tasks. They worked without disturbing each other, shuttling back and forth between just two places. Jean Vance had grown accustomed to the rhythm.

The job he’d taken on was finished. The client was very satisfied and immediately transferred the final payment. As the progress bar showed "Task Complete," his points also went up.

He was solidly in second place.

Or third, to be precise, since first place was a tie.

One was his mother. He couldn’t figure out who the other was. All he knew was that their codename was F, and they had always been at the top of the hacker leaderboard. Every time his mother was about to surpass them, F would show up and raise their score to match hers. This had been the state of affairs for the past five years.

F never took on jobs; they had climbed the ranks purely through one-on-one duels.

Gazing at the "F" at the top of the leaderboard, Jean Vance rested his chin on his hand, his brow furrowed. He tried once more to find out who this person was, but again, he failed.

"Young Master." Someone walked over. Without a change in expression, Jean Vance switched off the page and looked at the bearded bodyguard.

The bearded bodyguard’s name was Rocco. True to his name, he had dark skin and a large, burly frame. He was holding a delicate fruit platter that seemed comically out of place in his hands. The muscles on his fierce face bunched up into what could generously be called a smile. He placed the fruit platter on the coffee table. "Young Master, have some fruit."

"Mm," Jean Vance replied absently, his fingers still flying across the keyboard. ’Who on earth is this F? Why can’t I find a single trace of him? He’s a lone wolf, never joins any organizations—not even the Hacker Association. Otherwise, getting information on him would be a piece of cake.’

Seeing him lost in thought, Rocco instinctively glanced over at Samuel Ford. He suddenly felt the young master was becoming more and more like the boss.

’Then again, that’s not quite right. They always looked alike, but it was just their features. Now, it’s more about their aura—it’s getting very similar. He could even picture what the young master would look like when he grew up, a spitting image of the boss.’

’But something still felt... off.’

’Before, the young master was just a little terror—naughty, mischievous, and a real handful. His personality was the complete opposite of the boss’s. If the two of them hadn’t looked so similar, the bodyguards would have privately wondered if the boy was even the boss’s real son.’

’But now, seeing this quiet version of the young master, he felt a little unsettled.’

’He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was definitely strange.’

BANG! A man suddenly burst through the door, walked straight to the sofa, and sat down across from Jean Vance. He grabbed an apple from the fruit platter and took a bite, crossing his legs and slumping into the cushions. "Colt," he said lazily, "I took care of that thing you asked about. I’ve already checked the guy out. His name is Simon Sheffield, some nouveau riche punk. Your Second Uncle is going to get revenge for you tomorrow. Wanna come along and watch?"

’He asked him to?’

Jean Vance remained silent.

Samuel Ford looked over as well. "What’s this about?" he asked.

Jean Vance didn’t say a word, so Shawn Ford jumped in. "Oh, it’s nothing. Just some guy bullied Colt, so he asked me to get revenge. But Colt, why didn’t you go to your dad? His racing skills are way better than mine. Back in his younger days, he was a legendary driver. Not a single playboy in all of Aethelburg could touch him. If he went, he’d scare that Sheffield punk so bad he’d piss himself."

"’Like you said, that was when he was young," Jean Vance remarked nonchalantly.

Shawn Ford froze for a second, then burst out laughing. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, unable to stop. After a long moment, he turned to Samuel Ford with a wink. "Did you hear that, Big Bro? Colt thinks you’re old."

Samuel Ford said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Jean Vance was completely unfazed. He just lowered his head to look at his computer again, even reaching over to pop a grape into his mouth. The kid was cool as a cucumber. Even Shawn Ford gave him a mental thumbs-up.

’Impressive. Even I’m a little scared of my big brother sometimes, but this kid is so composed. You can tell he’s destined for great things.’

"Okay, okay, enough messing around. Your dad doesn’t need to get involved in something this minor. I can handle it. So, you in or out? Second Uncle will make him apologize to you on the spot. How dare he bully someone from the Ford Family? I’ll make that punk regret the day he was born."

Jean Vance was certain he hadn’t asked him for anything, and he didn’t know any Simon Sheffield. But after hearing the mention of racing, he pieced everything together.

’It must have been Felix Ford who asked him.’

’I originally thought Mom didn’t associate with people like that, so she probably wouldn’t go. But now things have changed. If she goes, then I absolutely can’t. But what about Felix Ford? If he tags along, Shawn Ford is sure to recognize him.’

Jean Vance’s brow was furrowed, his fingers tapping slowly on his laptop. Suddenly, a message box flashed. His expression relaxed. He closed the window, looked up, and said, "I won’t go. You can get revenge for me, Second Uncle. Thanks."

"Don’t mention it. It’s probably for the best you’re not going. Places like that aren’t for little kids anyway."

Having said his piece, he left. He was always a whirlwind, never lingering for a moment.

He had no desire to linger at the office. Who knew if his big brother would try to trap him into working? He hadn’t had his fill of fun yet and had no intention of clocking in.

He came and went in a flash, and the office fell silent once more. After a long pause, Samuel Ford finally asked, "When did Simon Sheffield mess with you?"

Ever since the boy had come back, they had been together every day. He was certain the boy didn’t know anyone named Simon Sheffield.

Sensing the probing nature of the question, Jean Vance answered casually, "It was from a while ago." He looked up, a ghost of a smirk on his face, his tone dripping with undisguised mockery. "It’s only natural you wouldn’t know. You never care about me, anyway."

Samuel Ford stared at him, and Jean Vance met his gaze without flinching.

The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. Rocco instinctively held his breath, his eyes darting between the father and son. ’Damn, the young master is getting gutsier by the day,’ he thought. ’The last person who spoke to the boss like that has been pushing up daisies for years.’

’And the amazing part is, his aura right now is just as intense as the boss’s.’

’Incredible.’

Samuel Ford watched him for a long moment before finally looking away. His voice was cool. "Next time, don’t just endure it. If you’re wronged, call your second uncle directly and have him get revenge for you. No one in the Ford Family is a doormat."

Hearing this, Jean Vance gave him a surprised look. But Samuel’s face was completely blank, revealing nothing. Unconcerned, Jean looked away as well.

At the desk, the veins on the back of the hand Samuel Ford used to grip his pen bulged slightly. His eyes held a barely suppressed tempest.

His eyes darkened as fury churned within him.

’Even if I was neglectful in the past, I’m not so far gone that I wouldn’t recognize my own son.’

’Who the hell would dare to pull a swap on me?!’

’And this child... who is he?’