Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 128: His mother, His sister...

The banquet ended with warm laughter and cheerful conversations. Davis felt like he was living in a fairytale—one with no room for sadness or pain. Being in a wheelchair didn’t seem to matter anymore. He felt at peace with the new found family.

After dinner, they all went upstairs to a special room meant for relaxing and socializing. It had a small karaoke stage and even a mini club setup. Bella quickly took the mic and started singing with joy, her voice filling the room.

One good thing about the mansion was that each of the building has its own purpose and arrangement that can solve whatever need one had at any point in time —The main reason why it serves as a hideout as one can be here and yet wouldn’t feel his out of touch with the world.

Meanwhile, Jessica wheeled Davis into the room, followed by Richard and Elliot. At some point both men chose to sit aside and talk more privately. There was a lot Elliot wanted to know about Davis —out of curiosity and expectations.

Elliot had always kept an eye on powerful families, quietly watching their business moves and personal scandals. But Davis had only joined the Allen family in the past decade, making it hard to get his full background. And truthfully, Elliot hadn’t paid the Allens much attention before—he had no reason to.

But now that Davis was married to Jessica—his goddaughter—Elliot felt it was important to understand who the man truly was.

As the two men chatted, Richard excused himself and went to his room to handle some unfinished work. But Jessica had suddenly gone missing. No one noticed when she left, and she hadn’t come back.

Davis tried to focus on the conversation, but his eyes kept drifting across the room, searching for her. She wasn’t there. The longer she stayed away, the more uneasy he felt.

Every now and then, he would clench his hand tightly, as if expecting to find hers in it—but it was empty. He would sigh softly and look away, trying to shake off the feeling. But it didn’t help.

He couldn’t believe it. Was he really becoming this attached to her? Was he already used to having her by his side that it becomes impossible not to?

Elliot, watching Davis’s little gestures, couldn’t help but smile. The corner of his lips curled up with amusement.

think he’s doing just fine," he mused to

how Davis kept glancing around

his best to avoid Elliot’s sharp gaze, which felt like it could see right through him

creeping up his face when

thoughts, Elliot’s voice broke through again—calm, but thoughtful. "What was your mother’s favorite kind of music?" he asked,

as Elliot’s sudden question lingered in the air. He blinked, uncertain why Elliot had brought up his mother

admired how his mother, though no longer with him, had given him the kind of love and care that most people could only dream of. That thought brought a subtle, bittersweet warmth to his chest. The memories of her always felt like a

his thoughts.

his mother like this—perhaps because it was one of the few things in his life that had always been constant

and losing her had been the hardest thing he’d ever gone through. Yet, her memory was still

Davis’s face as the memories of her came rushing back, the familiar feeling of comfort that her presence

music," he said, his voice lightening

Whitney Houston, Madonna, Rick Astley and so many of them." He

matched the themes of whatever was going on in her life. I always found it amazing how music could reflect her mood in ways words never could." He concluded with

much he missed her, how much he wished to cry on her

help but appreciate how her music choices had always mirrored her emotions giving him an understanding of who she is. It wasn’t just about the tunes or the catchy rhythms. It was about the way

on a more reflective tone, "she would listen to country or classical music. It was like she needed the quiet, gentle rhythms of those

were sharing a secret—a glimpse into the intimate, nurturing

a way for her to express the things she couldn’t always say out loud. And for Davis, those songs had always been the soundtrack to his childhood, comforting him through

in his chest. It was impossible to completely push away the pain, but he