Time-Limited Love: A Contract Expired, Not Renewed novel Chapter 254

The Ford Group’s annual gala was held in the grand hall reserved exclusively for the company’s biggest events.

The entire Ford family attended, of course. Alongside them were the company’s shareholders, longtime business partners, and several prominent politicians who had all received invitations to this milestone celebration.

Outside, journalists and photographers had gathered early, waiting in the chilly evening air with their cameras poised, flashes popping in the darkness.

Inside, the massive hall glowed beneath a glittering crystal chandelier, its light scattering in a thousand directions. Champagne flowed in a towering pyramid of glasses, the scent crisp and enticing, catching golden highlights whenever the lights swept across it.

The hall was packed—guests mingling, laughter and conversation rising above the clink of glasses. On a giant screen, a montage played: decades of Ford Group’s achievements unfolded in a seamless, proud display. Tonight was a night to witness the empire’s glory.

Just as the energy in the room reached its peak, a sleek Bentley glided to a stop outside the entrance.

One of the reporters called out, “That’s Mr. Ford’s car!”

The words had barely left his lips before the crowd of journalists surged forward, flashes firing at the unopened car door.

A moment later, the door swung open.

“Mr. Ford—”

But as soon as the person inside stepped out, the reporters’ excitement faltered, hanging in the air for a few seconds.

It wasn’t Landon or Zinnia who emerged, but members of the Jensen family.

Now that the initial anticipation had faded, some reporters noticed that this Bentley’s license plate didn’t match Landon’s well-known car.

Noelle, weighed down by the elaborate folds of her evening gown, stepped gracefully onto the red carpet.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said, flashing a dazzling smile and waving to the press.

Recognition dawned quickly. Wasn’t this the same Noelle Jensen who, just a few weeks ago, had tacitly allowed rumors to swirl about her being Mrs. Ford?

Her tantalizing remarks made the crowd of reporters even more eager to please her, and their questions were laced with thinly veiled flattery.

Before long, another Bentley rolled up to the curb.

“It’s Mr. Ford,” someone called out.

Noelle’s eyes brightened as she looked toward the arriving car. Sure enough, she recognized the prestigious A888 license plate—Landon’s unmistakable signature.

“That’s Landon,” she said under her breath, gathering up her gown as she hurried over.

The car door opened. A pair of impeccably tailored dress pants stepped out, framing long, elegant legs. Then Landon himself appeared, tall and commanding, immediately drawing the attention of every camera and eye.

He nodded politely to the press, radiating the same calm authority he was famous for.

“Landon,” Noelle called, lifting the hem of her heavy gown as she moved toward him, instinctively reaching out to take his arm.