Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 232: A day to relaunch...

~One Week Later ~

This morning in Noveria was unusually mild, with a warm breeze swirling gently through the city, heralding the full embrace of spring. Sunlight danced lazily through the delicate veil of clouds, The sky, painted in soft light blue and rays of gold, added a serene beauty to the bustling atmosphere.

Across Noveria major cities and suburbs, digital billboards and television screens played the same captivating footage over and over: the much-anticipated relaunch advertisement.

Every major news channel—Tabloids and media outlets played the relaunch advertisement in a continuous loop.

With so many hashtags,headlines and posts circulating online.

#A company at its wake #

#Mr. Stan rolls out a new company to replace the previous Allen Group? #

A new company? Who is the man behind the scene?

Noveria experiences a break in the market trend as a new company joins the trend.

A new company? What is the name?

The excitement was contagious. Investors, marketers, distributors, and corporate juggernauts buzzed with anticipation.

The packages being offered were too enticing to ignore, and the promises of innovation, profitability, and partnerships were irresistible.

For some, it was about money and the future. The Noverian’s business tycoons, socialites, and elites saw this rising company as already the next big thing. Their interest was long-term and strategic—they saw wealth, prestige, and global recognition in their future. So, they were sharpening their tools, ready to carve out a slice of the emerging empire.

For others, curiosity ruled, they simply wanted to witness the spectacle and then return to their cautious corners to make decisions later with plans to observe before deciding.

And then, there were the fence-sitters lingering on the sidelines, hesitant yet intrigued—watching, waiting, sucking on the lollipop of skepticism unsure whether to dive in or flee so they can only wait until the tide revealed which way to sway.

of a change and the city continuously buzzed with speculation

the tranquil of an upscale

a.m., and yet both Davis and Jessica remained curled under

on the tiled rooftops, and casting dappled shadows across the

treetops, flitting between flowered branches. The vibrant scent

pure—a haven crafted perfectly for rest and relaxation. A contrast to the storm of

graceful efficiency. The gardener had already completed his rounds, trimming and watering the carefully manicured landscape. The household remained quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen and the occasional sweep of

the grand dining room, Lady Deborah, the live-in cook and housekeeper, stood with concern etched into her features. A tray of breakfast—steaming eggs, buttered toast, spiced plantains, and freshly squeezed

ramp every few minutes. She glanced at the grand silver clock and frowned. Breakfast had been ready

had grown used to their routines. For the past week, Jessica and Davis had been early risers, starting their day before sunrise. But today, no footsteps echoed from above. No soft voices. No sign of life beyond the faint breeze brushing the drapes. It was different. It wasn’t

is a seasoned woman in her late fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, she had been employed by Ethan, Davis’s right-hand man,

her—not just for her culinary mastery that

the couple—not romantically, but emotionally.

Davis’s limited mobility, he never barked orders but he treated Jessica with

Jessica, she felt like she was watching

daughter—beautiful, composed, and considerate, the humility with which Jessica carried herself despite being

table, she glanced anxiously toward the hallway. Her instincts tugged at her to check on them. She hesitated, then began climbing

raised, to knock—but froze

they were simply tired? What if she was being intrusive?She

around, frustrated with herself, muttering about not wanting to disturb their peace, frustration simmering beneath her

Ethan? If anyone would know what was going on, it was him. Determined, her feet moved swiftly toward the end of the hallway, where

eyes bloodshot with fatigue. His usual sharp appearance was replaced with a disheveled look. His voice was groggy as he greeted her in a low, husky voice "Good

a soft, apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to

shook his

Mr. Davis and his wife haven’t come down. I was

"We were all up until almost five this morning,