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.

photo of Elder Allen tighter, hands shaking. "So it’s true. I wasn’t

throat tightened, and he blinked back the moisture blurring

by the name Allen, thinking it was mine by birth, by

hollow. "But I was never truly one of

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

along? That I was never meant to stand

memories—family dinners, corporate meetings, being addressed as ’Young Master Desmond.’ Had it

it

betrayal. And somewhere within it all was the overwhelming

Alex and Davis over me?" he choked out. "Because I was never truly his

at them, at the life he thought was his,

I abandoned?

fell unchecked as he whispered to himself, "I may not be an Allen

Desmond clenched his fists.

would make sure they remembered who he was—even if he had to burn down the name he once called

stood in the center of his bedroom, the documents at his feet like shattered pieces of a life he thought he understood. His chest heaved. The silence

burned, but he didn’t wipe the

adoption papers lying beside the black-and-white photo of

he muttered. "Adopted... and yet I

took a step forward and bent to gather the papers, his fingers moving slowly, reverently, as though

photo of Elder Allen and his wife smiling as they cradled him was what crushed him the most. It wasn’t staged. The joy on

the bed again, resting the documents in

I was raised in this house. I bore the Allen name. I protected it. I expanded the company, made sacrifices no one saw. I stood when

humorless laugh. "And now... now you say