Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 237: A witch or a prophetess?

Ethan’s gaze snapped toward Davis, his expression laced with dread, contemplation, and an unspoken fear the unexpected incident ignited in him.

They had meticulously planned for days, had covered so many scoops of expected problems and had also planned for issues like —technical errors, investor delays, prepared countermeasures for on-the-spot investments, even media backlash but not this.

Not a scandal of this magnitude. It had come out of nowhere, a punch in the gut. Not once had they considered the possibility of this sort of scandal erupting minutes after the CEO’s address.

Yet, Davis’s question still hung in the air like a blade over his head, sharp and demanding. Ethan’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Lying to Davis had never been on the table, he couldn’t lie to him because trust had always been their most valuable currency and at this moment he couldn’t proffer any solution at all.

Ethan sighed. After a deep breath, he gave the only answer he had. "We have no options," he admitted, voice low, pained.

The answer was like a verdict, a sledgehammer deciding the game even before it began.

Davis nodded lightly, his features unreadable. But his heart weighed heavy in his chest. "Was it possible that the very day he had decided to rise from his fall was also the day he would fail spectacularly?" He mused. That didn’t make sense—not to him. He is no longer ready to give up like in the time past. Not anymore.

His thoughts flickered to Jessica—Her determination. Her sacrifices. Her sleepless nights filled with preparation. She had worked tirelessly, ignoring her own health to make this day a success.

He could still hear her worried voice from earlier, even in her groggy state before she succumbed to the drug’s drowsy effect.

"Will this go peacefully?" she had asked, her voice barely a whisper.

At that time, he had believed her efforts would not be in vain. That things would go smoothly. That the investors from Noveira, being here solely for business, would be neutral and objective.

"But maybe," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with bitter amusement, "I was too naïve to think Desmond would be the only one capable of sabotage."

Now, it all made sense—the strategic timing, the fabricated allegations, the deliberate leak. It was an ambush disguised in corporate civility.

He glanced at Ethan again, noting the grimness in his assistant’s eyes. Davis couldn’t allow this. Not when so many people had worked hard for this relaunch—Jessica more than anyone. She had believed in him when no one else did.

And so, he couldn’t afford to stand by and let this work collapse before it even reawakened.

Remembering how sensitive Jessica was to trouble, Davis sighed deeply. At this moment, he couldn’t help but wonder. "Is she a witch or a prophetess?"

But knowing her, she would never let her work crumble. Not like this.

~Back at the Bungalow~

bit and with his assurance that

in her robe. The drugs she was supposed

the third

she knew there was a high chance she wouldn’t wake until

had decided not to take it. Not yet. Not until Davis returned

moments ago, just after watching

with pride hearing talk, knowing he had things in control,

a brief silence, the breaking

lit up her screen, she

wasn’t a warm

someone

muttered under her breath, her tone

might not be her turf yet, but that didn’t mean she would sit idle while enemies threw

public consumption, nor were they anyone’s playground to manipulate. And if they wanted to play rough—well, she could play

official social media account as

She made a post:

in

seconds after posting, the platform erupted. Comments, reposts, likes—it all

and

I requested?" she asked, her

the other end. The voice was humble, respectful—a subordinate

me. Release the rest. I want it trending, unremovable, and spreading like wildfire. Make sure every

call and immediately dialed

she instructed. "I’ll

deep breath. Her hand hovered over her

five minutes,"

hit the floor

legs trembled slightly as she moved slowly toward the bathroom. She needed a warm

especially after the drug began taking effect. But the current situation no longer offered her the luxury of rest. If she wanted to protect everything she and Davis had built—she had to

mind briefly

handling it? Was anyone stepping up to help? Were his friends doing

hit her heart. "Maybe I should call

few seconds, phone in hand. Then

"No. I’ll surprise him."