Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 232: A day to relaunChapter

~One Week Later ~

This morning in Noveria was unusually mild, with a warm breeze swirling gently through the city, heralding the full embrace of spring. Sunlight danced lazily through the delicate veil of clouds, The sky, painted in soft light blue and rays of gold, added a serene beauty to the bustling atmosphere.

Across Noveria major cities and suburbs, digital billboards and television screens played the same captivating footage over and over: the much-anticipated relaunch advertisement.

Every major news channel—Tabloids and media outlets played the relaunch advertisement in a continuous loop.

With so many hashtags,headlines and posts circulating online. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

#A company at its wake #

#Mr. Stan rolls out a new company to replace the previous Allen Group? #

A new company? Who is the man behind the scene?

Noveria experiences a break in the market trend as a new company joins the trend.

A new company? What is the name?

The excitement was contagious. Investors, marketers, distributors, and corporate juggernauts buzzed with anticipation.

The packages being offered were too enticing to ignore, and the promises of innovation, profitability, and partnerships were irresistible.

For some, it was about money and the future. The Noverian’s business tycoons, socialites, and elites saw this rising company as already the next big thing. Their interest was long-term and strategic—they saw wealth, prestige, and global recognition in their future. So, they were sharpening their tools, ready to carve out a slice of the emerging empire.

For others, curiosity ruled, they simply wanted to witness the spectacle and then return to their cautious corners to make decisions later with plans to observe before deciding.

And then, there were the fence-sitters lingering on the sidelines, hesitant yet intrigued—watching, waiting, sucking on the lollipop of skepticism unsure whether to dive in or flee so they can only wait until the tide revealed which way to sway.

But one thing was certain—Noveria was on the cusp of a change and the city continuously buzzed with speculation and curiosity.

Meanwhile, tucked away from the city’s thrum and the hustle of the commercial district, in the tranquil of an upscale estate, Davis’s private bungalow was drenched in the soft glow of morning light.

The atmosphere was vastly different. The day had started unusually slow. The clock had long struck 10 a.m., and yet both Davis and Jessica remained curled under their duvet, embraced in a deep, restful slumber. The rest of the house, however, had already sprung to life.

Outside, the sunlight filtered through the trees, dancing on the tiled rooftops, and casting dappled shadows across the neatly trimmed garden.

Birds chirped from the garden treetops, flitting between flowered branches. The vibrant scent of freshly bloomed flowers wafted gently through the windows, carried by the breeze.

The compound’s serenity was pure—a haven crafted perfectly for rest and relaxation. A contrast to the storm of activity and planning that had dominated their lives in recent days.

Inside, the attendants moved with graceful efficiency. The gardener had already completed his rounds, trimming and watering the carefully manicured landscape. The household remained quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen and the occasional sweep of brooms against marble floors.

In the grand dining room, Lady Deborah, the live-in cook and housekeeper, stood with concern etched into her features. A tray of breakfast—steaming eggs, buttered toast, spiced plantains, and freshly squeezed juice—sat untouched on the long, polished table.

Her gaze flickered toward the staircase and ramp every few minutes. She glanced at the grand silver clock and frowned. Breakfast had been ready for nearly an hour, yet there was no sign of the couple.

She had grown used to their routines. For the past week, Jessica and Davis had been early risers, starting their day before sunrise. But today, no footsteps echoed from above. No soft voices. No sign of life beyond the faint breeze brushing the drapes. It was different. It wasn’t normal.

Deborah is a seasoned woman in her late fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, she had been employed by Ethan, Davis’s right-hand man, shortly after they moved into the new apartment.

Jessica had taken an immediate liking to her—not just for her culinary mastery that spanned far beyond typical Noverian dishes, but for the motherly air she exuded.

Deborah, in turn, had fallen deeply for the couple—not romantically, but emotionally. She appreciated their humility, their respect for staff, and their genuine kindness.

And Davis... he was reserved and complicated. Despite Davis’s limited mobility, he never barked orders but he treated Jessica with a tenderness that contradicted his aloof façade.

And Jessica, she felt like she was watching her own daughter find joy again.

As her features reminded her so much of her own daughter—beautiful, composed, and considerate, the humility with which Jessica carried herself despite being married to a man of great wealth—it warmed her heart.

Today, concern gnawed at her. Standing near the dining table, she glanced anxiously toward the hallway. Her instincts tugged at her to check on them. She hesitated, then began climbing the stairs with slow, deliberate steps.

Arriving outside their bedroom door, hand raised, to knock—but froze midway only to lose her nerve.

What if they were simply tired? What if she was being intrusive?She mused contemplatively.

She turned around, frustrated with herself, muttering about not wanting to disturb their peace, frustration simmering beneath her quiet demeanor.

As she descended, another thought crossed her mind: What about Ethan? If anyone would know what was going on, it was him. Determined, her feet moved swiftly toward the end of the hallway, where Ethan’s room was located. She knocked gently.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Ethan stood before her, tousled and eyes bloodshot with fatigue. His usual sharp appearance was replaced with a disheveled look. His voice was groggy as he greeted her in a low, husky voice "Good morning, ma’am."

Deborah gave a soft, apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to wake you.

Ethan shook his head. "It’s fine."

"It’s just that Mr. Davis and his wife haven’t come down. I was worried and breakfast had been ready for a while," She continued, hesitant.

Ethan rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Don’t worry," he assured her. "We were all up until almost five this morning, finalizing plans for today. They’re just catching some rest." His tone was calm but tired.

Deborah nodded in understanding.

"Oh,"Then I’ll keep their food warm."Deborah replied, visibly relieved.

Thank you," Ethan said, offering a brief smile. He watched her leave before sighing and gently closing his door. He collapsed back onto his bed, thoughts drifting to Jessica.

It had been only a week since they arrived in Noveria, yet she had proven to be a force to reckon with.

She had transformed chaos into order, uncertainty into strategy. Every single hurdle, every delay, every unforeseen challenge, she had tackled it with clarity and goal with a calmness that unnerved even the most experienced of them.

Even as a seasoned strategist and capable executor, he found himself both humbled and impressed by her brilliance.

While Davis often grumbled and complained asking her to take a break, she had decisively taken on the reins of every meeting tackling each task with sharp wit and unwavering focus.

She seemed to have a contingency plan for every scenario and her ability to foresee obstacles and have backup plans in place was something Ethan quietly admired—and envied.

Last night was another marathon session. Jessica had meticulously reviewed every segment of the relaunch event. Just when they thought everything was in place, she had added last-minute backup strategies in case something went wrong. She insisted, "It’s better to be prepared than to be sorry."

When Davis had argued that Noveria wasn’t like Country Y, with enemies lurking in every corner, her cryptic reply had silenced even him.

"The safest place is the most dangerous place."

He remembered Desmond’s cruel words to Davis during the family dinner: "You married a decorative doll." If only he could see her now. There is no doubt he would choke on his words. He could already see the tides turning.

Ethan smiled faintly. She wasn’t just smart. She was prepared. And that made her powerful. "She really needed rest." He mused.

With that thought, he turned over and let sleep claim him once more. The real battle would begin at 4 p.m.—the gala and investor’s night—and based on the itinerary, they wouldn’t return until well after 3 a.m.

A long day awaited them all.