Ford walked into the office, where his father sat, the atmosphere was already tense. His father, Mr. Lugard, sat behind the large, polished desk with an expression that clearly showed his frustration. His brows were drawn tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, and the way he tapped his fingers against the table made it obvious that he had been waiting, and he was not pleased with everything going on.
The moment Ford stepped inside, his father's sharp voice cut through the silence. "Why are you late?" Mr. Lugard asked, his tone filled with frustration and disappointment.
Ford stood still for a moment, letting out a quiet, steady breath. He had expected this reaction the entire time he was on his way. In fact, he had already prepared his mind for whatever harsh words his father might throw at him. He knew this was not going to be an easy conversation. Slowly and calmly, he walked toward his father until he stood close enough to meet his eyes.
