Forgotten Love: Mr. President, Mrs. Fordham Has Rejected You!-Chapter 182: The Fordham Group’s Lack of Successors
The next day, the temperature rose a few degrees, and the sky returned to a clear and bright state.
The driver loaded the luggage of the three ladies into the trunk one by one.
Today’s destination was Faelan, a place just over a hundred kilometers away from Meritopia, which wasn’t a long journey.
However, the annual cultural festival there was held with extraordinary grandeur, attracting tourists from all over the country.
Mrs. Sterling held her two daughters’ hands tightly, with unconcealable worry in her eyes.
"Even though it’s not peak season, you must be careful."
"Don’t tire yourselves out, definitely avoid crowded places, and absolutely don’t eat indiscriminately."
Vivi reassured her with a smile.
"Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not a foodie, just taking a break."
Stella also spoke gently, "Mom, we’re only going for two days, we’ll be back soon, nothing will happen."
Mr. Sterling fondly patted Claire’s little head.
"Take care of your sisters, don’t eat too much, be careful not to upset your stomach."
Claire earnestly gestured in sign language, "Don’t worry, I will take care of them."
Mr. Sterling turned to the butler, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Arrange for three bodyguards to accompany them, one-on-one, no accidents allowed."
The butler nodded respectfully.
Two hours later, the two cars smoothly entered Faelan.
The entire city resembled a jade polished by time, perfectly preserving its ancient charm.
In the past, it was called Scholarsburg because it produced a renowned scholar celebrated in the world.
As a result, many families insisted on bringing their children to visit, making The Scholar’s Manor a major attraction.
At this moment, the entire city was adorned with festive red lanterns, and the ancient streets were newly embellished.
Eight ancient streets encircled the city center, with many tourists in traditional Hanfu taking photos for memories.
The car drove directly to the most luxurious Stellario Hotel in the city center.
This was a property under The Hawthorne Group.
Damian had specially reserved a spacious executive suite for them, more than enough for the three girls.
As for the top presidential suite, it had already been booked by two bigwigs.
After a short rest, in the afternoon, they headed to the bustling snack street.
The three distinctively styled beauties walking together naturally attracted frequent glances from passersby.
The bodyguards followed closely behind, their gaze sharp, not daring to relax for a moment.
Claire, like a bird newly released from its cage, fully unleashed her nature.
Everything seemed new to her, she wanted to taste everything, running swiftly.
Seeing this, Vivi immediately called a bodyguard.
"Keep up with her."
The bodyguard obeyed, quickly chasing after her, with astonishing speed.
Vivi and Stella strolled leisurely, each holding a warm cup of milk tea, in high spirits.
Vivi suddenly spoke, "If I were in ancient times, I would probably be the daughter of a wealthy marquis."
Stella was amused by her words, gently shaking her head.
"No, you would be a female constable, decisive and efficient."
Vivi laughed too, "Then you would be a powerful female prime minister."
She then changed the topic.
"I heard that the Whitman Family’s recognition banquet was extremely grand."
"Almost all eligible single men in the country were invited by the Whitman Family, like a real-life version of a princess selecting a husband."
"It seems Aiden was a key invitee, do you need any strategy?"
Stella’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup, the warmth of the cup’s surface seemed to cool.
She replied coldly.
"Where he goes is his freedom, if he wants to be the Whitman Family’s son-in-law, then let him."
Vivi looked at her in surprise.
"Does he really want to become the Whitman Family’s son-in-law? Is he blind?"
"It seems, in ancient times, he’d be a Chief Eunuch, brave but unable to accomplish major tasks."
Stella was finally amused by her peculiar analogy, the coldness in her expression dissipating a bit.
The two walked slowly shoulder to shoulder, completely unaware of the many inquisitive eyes behind them.
After dinner, many tourists flocked to Scholar’s Tower.
Faelan had planned a special exciting event for tonight—a Scholar’s Throwing Ball Ceremony for selecting a wife.
The rules were interesting; if a lady caught the ball, she could enjoy free food and drink in Faelan for a week and experience riding in the Scholar’s Wife’s sedan chair.
If a gentleman caught the ball, he could immediately exchange it for two hundred thousand in cash, then return the ball for another round.
The site was bustling with loud voices, the atmosphere extremely lively.
Among the gathered crowd, some wore various masks, some donned flowing Hanfu, and some were dressed as ancient officials, each with a unique charm.
Stella and her friends stood at the outermost part of the crowd, not wanting to squeeze in.
Claire, however, was full of excitement, her small hands quickly gesturing, her eyes sparkling.
Vivi seemed to understand, "Catching the ball can be exchanged for ten meat skewers, want to eat?"
Hearing this, Claire gave her a big eye roll.
Stella laughed and explained.
"That’s the Scholar’s ball, it’s a ceremony, the focus is on participating, just for fun."
"Don’t worry, we’re not really going to get married."
Claire smiled knowingly, secretly grumbling in her heart.
This Vivi’s learning ability is really poor, after so long she still can’t understand my sign language, Eldest Master Hawthorne understands better.
Vivi chuckled, reached out, and wrapped her arm around Claire’s shoulder.
"The three of us, one divorced, one separated, one single, if we do catch it, maybe we’ll find our destiny, who knows!"
"Jump higher for me in a bit."
Claire nodded vigorously, seemingly swayed by the idea of a "destined one."
With a loud beating of the gong, a delicate red ball was tossed high into the air.
The crowd erupted instantly, countless hands reaching up into the sky.
The ball was jostled by outside forces, bouncing and racing across the crowd’s heads, running amok throughout the venue.
"He’s coming, he’s coming!"
"Hurry up!"
Vivi Sterling shouted to Claire.
Claire, light on her feet, rushed forward swiftly, all for ten skewers of meat.
The crowd grew more and more tumultuous, and Vivi Sterling instinctively shielded Stella Grant as they backed away.
Suddenly, she halted in her steps.
Because, amidst the throng of people, she spotted a figure extremely familiar to her.
She quickly said to Stella Grant, "I’m going to the restroom."
With that, she turned and squeezed her way towards the direction of that figure.
The man wore a Monkey King mask and was exceptionally tall and upright.
The inherent cool aura surrounding him, along with his sharply defined jawline, was very similar to Zane Zimmerman.
Yet another wave of people surged, and she lost sight of him in an instant.
The atmosphere at the scene grew increasingly lively, and someone beside her accidentally bumped into her heavily.
Her body tilted, about to fall backward.
At this moment, a large hand steadily supported her waist.
A silk ball happened to fly over in this direction, and the crowd surged over as well.
The man pulled her into his arms, effortlessly lifting her to avoid the current stream of people, then slowly walked away.
Vivi Sterling dazedly leaned against his solid chest, her heartbeat racing as if it was going to leap out of her chest.
That familiar feeling almost tugged her heart away.
He held her, retreating from the crowd to a spacious place.
He still showed no intention of putting her down.
Vivi Sterling, driven by a bold impulse, reached out and pulled off the monkey mask.
Beneath the mask was a face that could captivate a crowd but was completely unfamiliar.
At this moment, Vivi Sterling finally fully awoke.
He was not Zane Zimmerman.
She had seen the video where Zane Zimmerman was shot in the face by his brother.
So, she had previously dared not to peek at the face beneath his mask, fearing to see a grim scar.
This man was truly not him.
The warmth in her eyes instantly faded, leaving only a faint hint of detachment.
"Please, let me down."
Hugh Whitman then put her down, his deep voice following.
"Apologies for any offense, the crowd was overwhelming just now."
Vivi Sterling was momentarily stunned; even his voice was so similar.
She pulled a polite smile, "Thank you for helping me."
He spoke again, "A small effort, do you need me to walk you back?"
His gaze inadvertently fell on her slightly protruding abdomen, lingering just for a moment.
She smiled, "No need, I’m going to find my friend."
She turned to leave without the slightest hesitation.
Hugh Whitman stood where he was, watching her determinedly depart, the gentle look in his eyes slowly dissipating.
In the air, that faint fragrance seemed to still linger around his nose, making him a bit reluctant to let go.
Meanwhile, Stella Grant had also long been swept away by the crowd.
Suddenly, a large hand accurately clasped her wrist, pulling her out of the crowded rush.
"Let go of me."
Stella Grant shook off that hand, the residual heat from his grip still on her wrist.
Why did he come as well?
Aiden Fordham’s voice was unbelievably gentle, with a faint whiff of liquor.
"Do you like the silk ball? Shall I grab it for you?"
Stella Grant lifted her eyes, glaring at him, her tone icy, "No need to trouble yourself, President Fordham."
Yet another "President Fordham."
He knew the girl still harbored a grievance.
He immediately softened his voice, carrying a coaxing tone.
"Don’t be angry, okay?"
"If I’ve done something wrong, you can hit me, curse me, but don’t anger yourself."
Stella Grant looked at his handsome face, and the more she looked, the more her anger surged up.
"I have nothing to say to you."
Finishing her words, she turned to leave.
Aiden Fordham, however, held her from behind, his strong arms wrapping around her waist, his warm chest pressing tightly against her back, instantly surrounding her with familiar breath.
"Stella."
He gently rested his chin on her shoulder slot, his hot breath blowing on her ear.
"Tell me, why are you upset? Let’s have a good talk, okay?"
Just then, Keegan Lindsey’s figure emerged from the side, holding a cotton candy bigger than a head.
It was a pink bunny shape, looking particularly whimsical in the night lights.
Keegan sensed the tense atmosphere between the two, his movements stiffened for a moment.
"Ma’am, would you like... some cotton candy?"
The blocked air in Stella Grant’s chest could no longer be held back, she blurted out.
"President Fordham, aren’t you going to The Imperial Capital for Miss Whitman’s recognition banquet."
"Instead of wasting time here, why not go and foster a connection with Miss Whitman, you might truly become the Whitman Family’s favored son-in-law."
The cotton candy in Keegan’s hand wobbled, so it turns out the lady was jealous.
Aiden Fordham was taken aback, holding her arm tighter.
His tone unexpectedly carried a hint of grievance.
"You don’t love me anymore, and yet you won’t let me go to the Whitman Family to pick a son-in-law, do you want The Fordham Group to have no successor?"
Stella Grant was stumped by his words.
