Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Lunch with Donald

Jessica turned around to leave, her steps quick and firm. But Donald reached out and stopped her gently.

"What about her treatment?" he asked, his voice low, almost desperate.

Jessica paused. Her eyes softened, and she spoke calmly. "It will cost a lot... I’ll need to find some rare herbs, ones that are difficult to get."

Donald frowned. "I don’t care about the cost. The Santiagos are not poor. No matter how expensive it gets, it won’t ruin them," he said, trying to convince himself as much as her.

She nodded. "For now, I’ll leave some prescriptions with the dean. It’ll help ease her pain and stabilize her a little while I go looking for the herbs."

Donald felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thank you," he said quickly, his eyes filled with gratitude. Then, after a small pause, he asked, "Would you... like to have lunch with me?"

Jessica froze for a second. That lump rose again in her throat, choking her response. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of it. She wanted peace. A quiet life away from all this chaos. But every time she saw Donald—or his family—her heart tangled with feelings she couldn’t understand. Pity. Guilt. Confusion. Curiosity. Fear.

She looked at him. His eyes were pleading. Gentle. Hopeful. And she couldn’t say no.

With a heavy sigh, she nodded. "Alright."

Donald’s face brightened. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He quickly stepped aside to make a call, pulling out his phone and dialing the dean.

"Keep everyone away from my mother’s room," he said firmly. "Put someone on guard duty. I don’t want anyone in or out without my permission."

Then he turned to Jessica and gestured toward his car. They both left the hospital. Donald drove, quiet at first, his hands firm on the wheel. Jessica sat beside him, lost in her thoughts. Her security team followed in a car behind, keeping their distance.

The sky outside was clear, but Jessica’s mind was a storm.

She could still see Lady Matilda’s fragile body on that hospital bed. The pale skin. The weak breath. It reminded her too much of her mother—her mother who had suffered in silence, who had died without a word.

She had been just a child, but the memory never left. Her mother’s eyes. Her weak voice. The way her cold hand had clutched hers for the last time.

The pain was still raw. Still sharp. Still alive.

studying medicine, the pieces slowly began to make sense. But her mother had so few connections. So few friends. It was hard to trace anything. Still, she

him. Her mind was far away. Finally, he reached

"Are you okay?"

it wasn’t Donald’s face she saw—but

she whispered. "Just a little lost

didn’t push. He nodded and looked ahead. "We’re here," he said after a moment. "I hope you’ll like the food.

She was glad he didn’t

her bag and pulled out her sunglasses. Sliding them on, she ran her fingers through her long wavy hair and

were parked discreetly nearby.

And then she froze.

Desmond Allen. George Brown.

caught

of coincidence is this?" she murmured. "A

minute," she told

and typed some commands. Her guards received the message. A moment

tightness

Donald and gave a small

place was quiet, warm, and filled with

glanced around. The pain in her chest was still there, but she

Heads turned in their direction—some in admiration, some in curiosity. The striking sight of a handsome man

large floor-to-ceiling window. The table gave her a perfect view of the street outside, where cars passed and people walked by in a rush of life. She liked being able to watch the

handing them both menus. Jessica glanced through hers quickly and made her order: fried rice with grilled chicken, a

light side of bread, a plate of sliced fruit for dessert,

any silence—it was thick, almost awkward. Like two people trying to speak but unsure

while. He seemed deep in

I ask where you were born?" he asked gently, his eyes

replied slowly. "In this country. But... why ask where I was born instead of something more common, like

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