Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 115: What’s happening?

~At the Hotel Room~

By the time Vera stirred on the bed, it was already ten o’clock. The morning sun stood high in the sky, casting bright rays through the curtains. She felt weak and drained, having been too exhausted last night that she couldn’t even have her dinner

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her gaze scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Her thoughts spun as she struggled to piece together the events of the previous night.

A dull throb pulsed in her head, and she instinctively raised a hand to rub her temple. Then, a blurry image flashed through her mind, striking a chord. Her body tensed as she sat up abruptly, her eyes darting around the room in growing panic.

"Hotel room," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A moment later, her breath hitched, her chest tightening as her heart pounded wildly. Memories of the previous night crashed over her in an overwhelming wave, flooding her mind in vivid detail of its event.

Her eyes darted around the room once more, slowly taking in every detail—the exquisite, untouched meal from last night, a glass of water resting on the bedside table, the drawn blinds shielding the room from excessive sunlight, the lavish furnishings, and a couch positioned near the window. The bathroom door stood glaringly opposite the bed, and at the side of the bed, a neatly packed bag sat—it had just been purchased.

The sight of the bag triggered a memory. My clothes... she mumbled under her breath. But then she recalled, in the heat of the moment, it had been torn into shreds.

Her gaze dropped to the duvet covering her body, her fingers curling into the fabric. Beneath it, she wore a man’s shirt—its scent unmistakably familiar. A wave of hesitation washed over her; she dared not lift the duvet, afraid of what she might discover.

Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath. Too many thoughts swirled in her head, colliding chaotically. With trembling fingers, she picked up her phone from the bedside table. The screen lit up, and her eyes widened in shock—twenty missed calls.

She quickly scrolled through the list, surprise flashing across her face. For the first time, Aaron had called her ten times. The remaining missed calls were from her father, mother, and a few friends.

"A shiver ran down her spine. I hope I haven’t been declared missing overnight," she muttered, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips.

Her eyes swept across the room again, searching for any sign of him. But he was nowhere in sight.

assurance settled within her—the kind that whispered, Even if the sky

stretched her limbs. What she needed now was a bath—a warm, soothing, sensual bath to wash away the fatigue

down from the bed, a small piece of paper fluttered onto the floor. Curious, she picked it up and read the note scribbled

angry with me

a small smirk. "I thought you were so bold last night? Why are you

that, she strolled toward the bathroom. The moment

bath had already been prepared—the water heated to the perfect temperature, delicate rose petals sprinkled across its

sight was something straight out of a fairy tale, a life fit for a princess, a life she had only imagined but never had the opportunity to

and contentment washed over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt relieved. she wasn’t bothered about last night, nor was she worried about the people who had called

a mental note to call Merit—her closest friend, the one who was more like a sister—when she

front of the mirror, Vera looked at herself, the oversized shirt barely reached a few inches above her knees, exposing her long, straight legs. With a

eyes locked onto her reflection. There, scattered across her skin, were faint but unmistakable marks—hickeys, some concealed, others glaringly

settled in her chest. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over the marks, as if to confirm they were real.

breath, she forced the thoughts aside. She needed a bath first—then she

of hesitation, she slid into the waiting bathtub. The warm water wrapped around her like a comforting embrace,

a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the tub as the gentle ripples massaged her tense muscles

of the bathroom, a white fluffy towel wrapped snugly around her chest. Droplets of water clung to her slightly damp hair as

His deep, magnetic voice sending

the voice, and there he was—Trevor,

her, he rose slowly, step

time since she

just the thought of his name made her heart stutter, but she quickly pushed it away. The man standing before her wasn’t Davis.