Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption

Chapter 295: Thank you for holding on...

~Earlier~

After the meeting with the planning committee in charge of the fashion week, Jessica had gone on-site with the team to inspect the venue.

The final arrangements were reviewed and adjustments made on spot making sure everything falls in order. After exchanging a good night wish with Richard and instructing him to see to the final adjustments, she stepped out of the hotel. noveldrama

The cool night air brushed her skin, bringing a small wave of relief from the chaos of the day. She paused under the building’s canopy and returned Davis’s missed calls.

But when he informed her that he wouldn’t be returning that night, the disappointment tugged at her heartstrings. That single sentence drained her will to return to the villa and every trace of enthusiasm to go home vanished.

She hadn’t realized until now how accustomed she had become to his presence—how his absence made the silence heavier, the night colder.

She sighed, her fingers brushing her growing baby bump as if to draw strength. The pregnancy had made her more sensitive, more vulnerable in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

She paused briefly, eyes closed for a second, wishing she knew exactly where Davis was so she could just go to him.

But she knew he was busy with important matters, and him not taking her along meant it wasn’t a safe space for her.

Still, she didn’t want to be alone.

Jessica contemplated going over to Bella’s place. A casual night, some tea, idle talk, and she could crash there. Davis could pick her up in the morning.

With that in mind, she walked slowly toward her car. But then, she noticed something wrong.

A prickling sensation danced across her spine. Instincts flaring, she glanced over her shoulder discreetly. Three figures.

At first, she thought they were just pedestrians, but their patterns, the measured pace, the distance they maintained. It seems too intentional and calculated. The conclusion—she was being followed.

Her heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, her hand caressed her baby bump. With a soft sigh, "Baby," she murmured softly, her voice tender and low. "Dad isn’t here right now, and Mommy might need to handle some things. You have to be good. No flipping or kicking, alright? Let’s not make things harder on Daddy."

The street was cool, dimly lit, and nearly deserted. There wasn’t enough of a crowd to blend into. The shadows offered more promise. Her car could have been tampered with, and she couldn’t risk leading them there.

On top of that, she remembered she’d left without informing anyone. Her guards lived in the quarters at another wing of the mansion. She preferred not having them constantly shadowing her; their presence was reserved for emergencies.

Tonight, she wished she had broken her rule as this might be one.

Her brain raced through her options. Then, quietly, she blended into the shadows of the night. Holding her breath, she remained still as the men passed by, unaware of her new position.

Once she was confident they had lost track of her, she emerged from the darkness, her eyes following them as they walked past, unaware. But just as she turned to leave, a presence crept up behind her.

One of them had circled around. She spun just as he lunged.

A quick series of moves followed. Her training kicked in. Every movement was measured, sharp, and clean. She took a deep breath, "I’m ending this early," she muttered to herself. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down her assailant.

A few swift moves later, Jessica had taken control. With precision and agility, she disabled the attacker, who then vanished into the night. She stood tall, heart pounding, but unshaken. Her smirk was cold.

She glanced around. Taxis were few, and she wasn’t about to trust any random car. With careful steps, she returned to her car. A quick inspection showed nothing visibly wrong. Satisfied, she got in, locked the doors, and retrieved her phone.

She tried calling home.

Not connecting. Not from Deborah, not from the house line, not even from Henry. A headache began to throb behind her temples. She would’ve preferred someone come over to drive her home.

Still, she needed to get home.

The drive back felt unusually long. The air was heavier, her thoughts louder. Even with the music playing softly, her instincts screamed danger.

The lack of connection to anyone at the house only intensified the anxiety. A slow dread began to settle in her chest. Something was off.

Finally, she reached the gate. The insignia on her car ensured automatic entry. The house stood ominous, bathed in an unnatural stillness. The only sound was the faint murmur of the television.

With a gentle push, the door of the sitting room creaked open and sight before her made her blood run cold and her breath caught. Deborah, Henry, and the other staff were tied up.

Her eyes widened in horror. Her fingers twitched, readying for action. Her gaze swept the space—no sign of the attackers.

Deborah frantically shook her head. Run! her expression screamed.

But this was her home.

Jessica crouched swiftly, untying Deborah and the others, her fingers nimble despite her trembling hands. Once free, Deborah whispered in gasps.

"They came for you... and Sir. They asked where you were... where he was."

Jessica’s jaw tightened. So they were after her and Davis.

"Where are they?" she asked, her tone frigid.

"Upstairs."

She nodded, assessing her next steps. The pregnancy and the potential fight on the stairs made her pause. As she freed the last maid, the attackers returned, silent and deadly.

They lunged at her and with no option left she reacted with precision. Each movement was swift. Her weak body couldn’t endure a prolonged fight. So she didn’t drag it out.

More strength. More speed. Less time.

Her mind screamed questions between every strike.

What happened? Why her? Who sent them? But then— they underestimated her.

~Back to Present~

Jessica lay back on the bed, exhaustion settling deep into her bones. Her muscles ached, her breathing even but tired. Davis slowly pulled away from their embrace.

"Be good," he whispered, brushing a hand against her cheek. "Let me run the bath."

She nodded faintly, allowing herself to sink into the mattress.

She hadn’t realized just how much strength she’d used until she stopped. Her body throbbed, but her mind was clear.

The image of Davis bursting through the door, calling her name, still played in her head and the relief she felt at that moment left her asking herself some questions.

"Was I just holding on for him to return?"

"Why do I feel like the problem is solved when he returns?"

"Why so dependent now? It’s really not a good sign." She mused.

She had always been strong, independent. But Davis had quietly become her anchor. And now, she found herself attached to him in ways she couldn’t name.

The bathroom door opened, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"The bath is ready," he said gently.

He helped her from the bed, supporting her as though she were made of glass. She allowed herself to lean into him.

He bathed her tenderly making sure the water didn’t get on her injuries, washed her hair, then helped her into fresh pajamas. She looked smaller in them, more fragile.

Just as he was wrapping the duvet around, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Davis called.

Deborah entered cautiously. Her eyes widened at the sight of the mess—the broken mirror, the scattered clothes, the signs of chaos. The room has been ransacked.

But her gaze fixed on Davis.

Walking.

She blinked rapidly.

Wasn’t he crippled? Why was Madam not surprised? Was this someone else?

A dozen questions swirled in her head. But there was no space to ask, no answer waiting.

Davis took the food tray from her hands.

"Thank you," he said softly, then walked over to the bed and set it down.

Deborah remained stunned. Slowly, she lowered herself and began cleaning the room.

"Eat something," he murmured.

Jessica looked at the tray, then back at him. Her fingers reached for his.

"Thank you for coming back earlier," she whispered.

"Thank you for holding on," he replied.