Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 120: A vendetta?

"Clues," she murmured, her tone thoughtful. "And answers to a few questions."

Davis nodded, his interest piqued as he turned back to the screen, waiting to see what she would uncover.

Jessica’s eyes remained fixed on the television screen, watching as the attendees of the press conference trickled out in twos and threes, their conversations lively with chatter and laughter.

Some paparazzi rushed to upload the conference’s outcome onto their websites—it was always a race, as the first to break the news would draw the largest audience. Others, determined to catch any lingering drama, remained at the venue, their cameras still rolling.

Davis sat silently beside Jessica, his gaze never leaving the screen. He had no idea what she was searching for, nor the parameters she was using to filter through the sea of faces, but he stayed, choosing to accompany her rather than let curiosity gnaw at him. Besides, he preferred being by her side while waiting for Richard’s response.

"Maybe making this even messier wouldn’t be such a bad idea," he mused internally, a smirk playing on his lips.

Just then, Jessica’s sharp voice cut through the silence. "Yes! There it is."

Davis snapped back to attention, his thoughts pushed aside. He turned to her, watching as she abruptly paused the screen, her focus locked on the image before her. Without a word, she stretched out her hand toward him. Davis swiftly unlocked his phone and handed it to her.

She wasted no time, capturing a snapshot of the paused frame.

Davis frowned, baffled. "What clue did you find in this sea of people?" he asked, scrutinizing the screen for anything out of place.

He had been trying to wrap his head around her determination to sift through a staged press conference for clues. Even more, he wondered how she could possibly identify one when she saw it.

in her eyes. At last, she had something—a link, a missing piece

smirk. "A person. I found a

urge to pat herself on the back for her brilliance but stopped short, remembering how Davis would tease her for being shameless. Instead,

Davis echoed, his brow arching

nodded, then gestured for him to come closer. Davis pushed his wheelchair forward, though a part of him wished he could just pull her onto his lap. But given the gravity of the situation and her

phone to the laptop

tell me what

.ml

sharp gaze swept over the screen, scanning each face. Then, his expression

ever observant, caught the subtle shift. "Did you see it?" she asked, her

so," he

out of the audience’s view when

of the conference, he had subtly turned and slipped away, vanishing seamlessly into the

calm but firm. "What do you

an assistant, or the instigator," Davis replied, his

decisions that turned millions into billions. But unraveling a person’s disguise? That was an entirely different

back in her seat, her gaze fixed on the screen as she

has fallen into this predicament. The true instigator wouldn’t need to be here to monitor the proceedings, but that doesn’t mean

thoughtfully, considering her words. "So, what are you thinking?"

replied, "I’m thinking we should keep an eye on this figure—find out what he’s up to, what he’s planning, and