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.

certain—Noveria was on the cusp of a change and the city continuously buzzed with speculation

tranquil of an upscale estate, Davis’s private bungalow was drenched in the soft glow of

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

tiled rooftops, and casting dappled

flowered branches. The vibrant scent

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

trimming and watering the carefully manicured landscape. The household remained quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen and the occasional

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 juice—sat untouched on the long,

clock and frowned. Breakfast had been ready for nearly an hour, yet there was no sign of

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

fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, she had been employed by Ethan, Davis’s right-hand man, shortly after they

culinary mastery that spanned far beyond

couple—not romantically, but emotionally. She appreciated their humility, their respect

mobility, he never barked orders but he treated Jessica with a

was watching her own daughter

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

she glanced anxiously toward the hallway. Her instincts tugged at her to check on

outside their bedroom door, hand raised, to

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

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

was going on, it was him. Determined, her feet moved swiftly toward the end of the hallway, where Ethan’s room was

tousled and eyes bloodshot with fatigue. His usual sharp appearance was replaced with a disheveled look. His voice was groggy as he greeted

soft, apologetic smile.

his head.

his wife haven’t come down. I was worried and breakfast had

"Don’t worry," he assured her. "We were all up until almost five this morning, finalizing plans