Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 297: Why didn’t you send her home?

Davis slowly walked down the stairs after a refreshing bath. Dressed in a dark, crisp shirt and black pants, his hair damp and pushed back, his eyes closed and the tension in his shoulder palpable.

Now that Jessica was finally asleep, he could fully face the situation that had been waiting for him downstairs.

His sharp eyes scanned the living room from the top of the stairs. The house staff had long vanished, having wisely removed themselves from the unsettling presence and gruesome sight of the men tied up below.

Standing nearby was Ethan, alongside another guard whom Davis presumed Ethan had summoned.

Davis’ expression was cold and detached, void of emotion, as he descended the staircase—an action he had believed was impossible just a year ago. With several doctors declaring his situation beyond remedy, he has lost the hope and the will to walk again.

Yet, It was almost ironic: his first steps on this staircase back into action were not for his own decision, but to settle a score for the wife he was forced to marry as a crippled man. She had gradually become a presence, he couldn’t live without.

Each step he took down the stairs carried the weight of a reckoning and a score to settle. His appearance spelled doom for the intruders.

Jessica had been attacked not on the street, but in the one place that should have been safest. That alone made his blood boil, his fist clenched by his side.

If there was ever a moment to be reminded of his failures, this was it.

"Has my home really become so vulnerable that enemies can walk in without fear?" he thought bitterly.

He couldn’t deny it. Things had spiraled out of control—because he had let them. He had accepted defeat when he should have fought. He had stepped back when he should have stood tall.

His thoughts flickered to the days after his discharge from the hospital and his thoughts drifted to Ethan, his ever-loyal assistant, he had practically been the one that dragged him forward.

He had been more than an assistant. He had been a rock during the hardest times. He had scolded, pushed, and sometimes even led where Davis had faltered.

Looking at him now, still handling matters without needing instruction, Davis felt a deep sense of gratitude.

Ethan’s past words echoed in his mind—taunts laced with concern, the determined glares filled with worry, and quiet loyalty that never wavered.

insult passed through Davis’s mind. Yet, through it

gratitude. He made a mental note to

what good deeds he might have done in a past life to deserve someone like Ethan.

warmth settled over him—a

recognizing the icy authority that had just entered as the coldness and tension

settling into the couch. His

cabinet. He selected a bottle

He had witnessed this man at his pinnacle and through his deepest lows. Watching him rise once

it in his hand. his gaze was locked on the motion of the liquid, yet his mind was on the trembling men before him, his frosty eyes flickering every so often back to

had used to cripple them in just

them so quickly. They were trained, experienced, and yet within moments of facing her, their

injuries were minor, they had failed to hurt

had only been cut by a

own condition? Paralyzed,

left the building before Davis returned, but their legs

her skills, aura, and elegance—even in battle—one conclusion stood out: She is a Mafia

you here?" Davis asked, his voice low,

men avoided his gaze, eyes darting anywhere but

repeat myself," Davis

Still, they said nothing.

"Tie them tighter."

around the men’s limbs.

raise his voice. His silence, paired with methodical acts

muscles spasming from pain, yet

broke. His voice cracked, gasping through clenched teeth, "We were only assigned

your superior?" Davis asked, his