Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 320: Can we now get you ready?

Jessica’s car glided slowly through the expansive gates of the Davis’s home. The gates had barely finished swinging open as it reacted instantly to the recognition of the car’s insignia and other security escorts rolled up behind, tailing at a safe distance.

As the vehicle pulled to a smooth stop in the curved driveway, a uniformed guard briskly approached and opened the back door.

With a graceful nod of appreciation, Jessica stepped out elegantly, her heels clicking softly against the marble driveway.

She paused briefly, her hand instinctively resting on her baby bump as she noticed its movement; a tender gesture that had become second nature.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting warm speckles of light onto the pristine white stones of the estate’s front yard.

Deborah, standing by the door in a neatly pressed apron, beamed as she watched Jessica approach. Her face adorned with a warm, welcoming smile, a warmth that could melt the thickest tension.

"You’ve worked so hard," Deborah said affectionately, wrapping Jessica in a gentle embrace as she slowly patted her back.

That embrace offered Jessica the solace of a mother figure that had long gone. She took a deep breath and stepped back casting a glance at her apron. She raised a brow "In the kitchen?"

Deborah gave a curt nod as she took the long coat and file folder from her hands and began leading her into the house.

Jessica returned the smile warmly as she followed her into the house, exhaustion lingering in her gaze but just as quickly, her nose twitched slightly, catching a familiar aroma in the air—the unmistakable scent of smoked fish, palm oil, and local spices simmering in harmony.

A loud growl erupted from her stomach, shocking her into a moment of sheepishness and a surprising hunger she hadn’t noticed until that moment.

Jessica’s cheeks reddened immediately in embarrassment at the audible rumble, prompting Deborah to laugh—a deep, heartening laugh, full of maternal fondness.

"Must be starving," Deborah teased. "Come on. Let me get you something to cushion your stomach."

She steered Jessica gently to the dining room, her steps light and brisk as she returned to the kitchen.

Moments later, Deborah returned from the kitchen balancing a tray with care and precision, like a seasoned waitress presenting a royal meal.

Another maid followed carrying a bowl of water for her to wash her hands after the day.

On the tray were portions of carefully selected traditional dishes—abacha and ugba, ji agwọro agwọ, ukwa, and a delicate plate of nkwobi as an aside. To top it off, a bowl of colorful fresh fruit salad acted as a sweet contrast, all presented in separate crystal bowls delicately plated in small quantities, giving Jessica the opportunity to sample all the dishes.

Jessica stared at the tray, her breath catching in her throat at the sight. The presentation alone was enough to pull tears from her eyes. Her shoulders sagged with relief as though the weight of the world had gently slipped off.

eyes shimmered, tears threatening to surface. She blinked them away with effort, struggling to explain why this act of care of

bite. The flavors exploded across her tongue,

is really taking good care of

be having a long day later," Deborah said kindly before

tray of homemade meals—light, colorful, and delicious, Jessica felt the tension of the day melt from her shoulders. She closed her eyes briefly,

before the Angels wear kicks off the show. So far, no notice of any mishap. She sighed

just then, her phone dinged. She paused mid-bite, gently set down her spoon, and picked up the device. A soft smile tugged

may I take this opportunity to wish you a successful debut... and an excellent position in the world of fashion." Attached was a flower and

"In a meeting, yet he still found time to message me. So caring," she murmured to

moved

And can you please come

response came faster

"Close by."

and set her phone aside, then finished the rest of her meal

unusually still. As she entered, her eyes were

wrapped gift boxes, neatly arranged and placed neatly on the bed. They were of varying sizes, each

bedside table, she moved closer, without thinking her hand gliding over the smooth surface of each box,

she murmured, half to herself, half to the silent

her lips: "Never thought

She reached

shows every day just to get more

waiting for a response,

the first, she carefully untied the ribbon and

the sunlight in dazzling flecks of silver and gold. It shimmered as she lifted it, revealing intricate hand embroidery

ran her hand along the fabric. "It

gasped in realization. The gown bore the distinct signature of Lady Evelina, the matriarch of high fashion, a renowned fashion icon and one of the most elusive designers in the

of the most

months, if not

her to design on

commissioning a dress from her was akin to

parted in disbelief. She had planned and dreamed of wearing

smile widened as the realization settled in—her longtime wish had been fulfilled. And the best part? She hadn’t