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.

the cusp of a change and the city continuously buzzed with speculation and

thrum and the hustle of the commercial district, in the tranquil of an upscale

vastly different. The day had started unusually slow. The clock had long struck 10 a.m., and yet both Davis and Jessica remained curled under their duvet, embraced in a deep, restful slumber. The rest

the sunlight filtered through the trees, dancing on the tiled

The vibrant scent of freshly bloomed

A contrast to the storm of activity and planning that had dominated their

carefully manicured landscape. The household remained quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen and the occasional sweep of brooms against marble

Lady Deborah, the live-in cook and housekeeper, stood with concern etched into her features. A

flickered toward the staircase and ramp every few minutes. She glanced at the grand silver clock and frowned. Breakfast had been ready for nearly an hour, yet

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

her late fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, she

had taken an immediate liking to her—not just for her culinary mastery that spanned far beyond typical Noverian

in turn, had fallen deeply for the couple—not romantically, but emotionally. She appreciated their humility, their respect for staff,

never barked orders but he treated Jessica with a tenderness that contradicted his

felt like she was watching her own daughter

the humility with which Jessica carried herself despite being married to a

Her instincts tugged at her to check on them. She hesitated,

to knock—but froze midway only

tired? What if she was being

muttering about not wanting to disturb their peace,

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

open. Ethan stood before her, tousled and 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 morning,

apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to wake

his head.

just that Mr. Davis and his wife haven’t come down. I was worried and breakfast had

rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Don’t worry," he assured her. "We were all up until almost five this morning, finalizing plans for today. They’re