Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 139: Fallen Princess

Risa stormed out of the hospital each step of hers charged with fury, her heels clicking against the pavement like war drums, her eyes blazed with anger as her fists tightly clenched at her sides trembled. Rage bubbled inside her like a volcano ready to explode. Her emotions tethering between crying and laughter. Her emotions riotous with tears threatening to fall.

She had come here today with nothing but her pride swallowed to beg—yes, beg for an opportunity, beg for a chance to work for them, to be at their disposal of work.

"How had i fallen to this point? That even securing a menial job had become problematic?" she murmured to herself while making it to the exit. She never imagined she would stoop this low in this lifetime to beg for an opportunity.

All she wanted was a chance at any job. Even if it meant cleaning floors. But they rejected her. No second look. No mercy. Risa isn’t reconciled with this outcome. She had been at the top of the entertainment circle where everyone is looking up to her, asking to sign a contract with her for one product or another.

But now, everything has fallen apart.

The past few weeks had been nothing short of a nightmare, a disaster. First, the Brown family crisis hit the news reducing their prospects of survival.

Then the Allen family, they are supposed to assist tide the waves for the sake of that damned girl yet Desmond turned them down. It was one hit after another. They hadn’t even recovered from the last mess before a new one started.

Risa’s world had tumbled into pieces, as though the universe itself had turned its back on her. "What do i do, nobody wants me not even my own mother?" she murmured her eyes reddened in pain, anger and mockery of herself.

blacklisted because of the Brown’s family and her photos which

graceful

icy glares. She treated Risa like discarded trash in the trash can. Recalling her mother’s venomous word

the social ladder? Or merely a golden ticket her mother had used to keep her position in high society

George, her father? A

hallway. The house has long ceased to be called a home. The servants were all gone—no one to clean, no one to cook. The silence in the halls are usually heavy, and

had been forced to cook if she wanted to eat. Her once glowing nails were

a bonus appeal for her to post on her social handle and attract more customers. Her card—frozen. Her accounts emptied. Her name which once screamed of power, now a

their phone list. And when she runs into them in the street or grocery store

I committed? She whimpered internally. She didn’t want people coming to glare at her, mock or scorn her. And then, at that

Jessica.

That woman.

were so familiar as she walked toward the sleek black car that she took a second glance and froze in her footstep. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was seeing things. But it was real. It was Jessica, the