Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 224: If he is alive, where is he?

Davis nodded thoughtfully, unsurprised that Jessica had gone upstairs without waiting for him.

The weariness etched across her features in the car had not escaped his notice. Her fatigued frame slumped silently in the car earlier, the quiet exhaustion clinging to her like a heavy cloak.

He had chosen to stay silent, respecting her unspoken need for rest, momentarily overlooking her tired body, due to her tendency to conceal her discomfort. Still, the nagging concern hadn’t left him.

I’ll have to bring the doctor in by tomorrow,"he mused inwardly. Knowing her stubborn nature he resolved to work gently but firmly in coaxing her into agreeing before the doctor’s visit in the morning.

He thought for a while "tonight would be the best chance to persuade her before the doctor’s visit." He murmured inwardly to himself

With Ethan expertly maneuvering the wheelchair along the ramp, Davis inhaled deeply, grounding himself.

"Has Mr. Stan contacted you again?" he asked, his voice low but laced with expectation.

Ethan nodded, keeping pace beside him. "Yes, sir. He called to confirm that the meeting with the shareholders is scheduled for tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp."

"Good." Davis’s gaze sharpened and gave a short nld. "Add Mr. Ford’s birthday celebration to my schedule. It’s three days from now. Also, arrange for a doctor to visit the suite tomorrow. Preferably a gynecologist. Schedule the appointment for 5 p.m."

"Yes, sir."

When they reached the door of Davis’s private suite, he lifted a hand, signaling Ethan to stop. "You can return to your room. I’ll take it from here."

Ethan gave a brief bow and departed.

Gently, he pushed the door open and wheeled himself in.

The room was dim, awash in the soft, warm glow from a bedside lamp. Jessica lay nestled under the duvet, clad in a soft nightdress. Her face, calm and serene, was illuminated faintly by the bedside lamp.

The gentle fragrance of her shower gel still lingered in the air, hinting she had just bathed before lying down. Her breathing was steady, and from the rhythm of her chest, Davis could tell she had drifted off to sleep.

"Babe," he called softly, almost in a whisper but she didn’t stir. He called her again yet—No response.

He wheeled himself closer and with careful effort, stretched his legs to ease the familiar numbness, bracing himself before standing.

lingered on her peaceful face, his expression softening and with a deliberate movement, he gently tucked her hand beneath the blanket

brows furrowed as his eyes traced the contours of her face. In the past, even the slightest sound like the click of a door

didn’t realize he had been longing for. A soft

she was awake. He dried off his hair, and dressed in a clean set

the critical meeting he has with the shareholders looming, tonight was his only chance to review the proposal one last time. He carefully read through the documents—refining arguments, perfecting

meticulous edits and

hours of morning that he finally turned

to bed, sparing one last glance at Jessica’s

~Country Y~

media had exploded with the false news of Davis Allen’s death spreading like wildfire for the

triggered frenzied speculation with dire effect across the country, as the news ignited public panic and speculation at its wake. Yet, the Allen family remained quiet and Desmond Allen, however, neither

what he had envisioned. An opportunity

singular goal: remove Davis from the picture, and rise unchallenged. It

help but blame himself for not thinking of this approach all the while. But then, as long as he achieved his aim it’s worthwhile no matter

was that this move would ignite a storm far more volatile than he had prepared for. A storm that will make him breathless yet grappling

out of the conference room with an air of supreme confidence, Desmond’s steps echoed through the hallway, each stride laced with pride

members and major shareholders had summoned him again, and the meeting had been tense yet he emerged feeling victorious. To him, the throne was finally within reach while he calculated

snapped his fingers at his assistant, issuing new directives with

George Brown," he ordered his assistant. "There’s an opening for him

is in no position to question him yet he felt

into his leather chair, scrolling leisurely through the explosion of headlines on his tablet. His lips curled

calls flooded in for various reasons and purposes—sympathy, inquiries, veiled business

business associates, media outlets—all clamoring for

from

a strategic call to George Brown, offering him another

to George as long as it earned him a place in the

call, a smile on his lips, a testimony of his

with a notification, and as expected, he anticipated an anxious call from investors. But his face immediately scrunched, his brows furrowed in disbelief at the news that popped up on his screen—silencing him and cutting through the noise

Death Rumors. Statement Issued Under