Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 273: Distraught Desmond

~Allen Family House~

Desmond drove into the Allen estate, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he pulled to a halt in front of the grand family residence. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath ragged with suppressed emotion.

"From the beginning till now... I’ve been treated like an outsider," he muttered bitterly, slamming the car door shut. "All this while, I thought I was fighting for what was rightfully mine."

He stormed into the house, fury radiating from every step. The silence that greeted him in the living room only deepened the roar in his mind. The vast space, once a symbol of pride, now felt foreign, cold and accusing.

Without wasting a moment, he marched upstairs and into his bedroom where the answers he is to find lay. He went straight to his drawer, yanked it open, and retrieved the sealed folder he had secretly taken from Elder Allen’s study the night the old man went into shock and got hospitalized.

His fingers trembled slightly as he sat heavily on his bed, the large folder in hand, his heart dreading the result inside.

For a long moment, he just stared at it, his mind playing through every conversation, every whisper, every sideways glance he’d dismissed over the years. Even the memory of Elder Allen asking him if he loves the family.

Now it made sense, now he understood. Now he understood why he does everything to placate him.

Slowly, deliberately, he opened the envelope.

Inside, there were aged documents and a collection of old photographs. The first image made his breath hitch. It was a black-and-white picture of a small infant wrapped in a cloth. Tucked behind it was another photo with Elder Allen and his late wife smiling as they cradled a baby. It was the same baby.

His heart thudded wildly as he unfolded the next paper. Legal documents. Birth certificate. Adoption agreement. Signatures. The proof was undeniable.

Desmond’s eyes widened in disbelief, then slowly clouded with unshed tears. His lips parted, but no sound came. His body slumped forward as though the weight of truth had collapsed his spine.

"This... this can’t be..." he whispered hoarsely.

hands shaking. "So it’s true. I wasn’t born into this family...

tightened, and he blinked back the moisture

sacrificed. I lived by the name Allen, thinking it

hollow. "But I

the documents again, hoping they would somehow change. That the ink would dissolve and rewrite a new truth. But it

was never meant to stand at the

addressed as ’Young Master Desmond.’ Had it all been a lie wrapped

face, dragging it over his jaw. Rage boiled

it all was the overwhelming sting of rejection—blatantly told "you

Alex and Davis over me?" he choked out. "Because

to the floor. He stared down at them, at the

and why am I abandoned? And if the Allen family thought

may not be an Allen by blood, but I will

Desmond clenched his fists.

they had taken everything from him, he would make sure they remembered who he was—even if he had to burn down the name

shattered pieces of a life he thought he understood. His chest heaved. The silence of the room

wipe the tears

the crumpled adoption papers lying beside the black-and-white photo of the baby—of himself.

muttered. "Adopted... and yet

forward and bent to gather the papers, his fingers moving slowly, reverently, as though holding a fragile piece of

wife smiling as they cradled him was what crushed him the most. It wasn’t staged. The joy on their faces wasn’t forced.

knees buckled and he sank onto the bed again, resting the documents in his

"So what if I wasn’t born with the Allen blood in my veins? I was raised in this house. I bore the Allen name. I protected it. I expanded the company, made sacrifices no one saw.

out a humorless laugh. "And now... now you say I’m not