Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption

As Ethan exited the room, Davis drew in a long breath, his chest rising slowly. He walked to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and let a sharp ray of sunlight flood the dim space.

The brilliance illuminated his sharp features, though his expression remained unreadable, his gaze was distant, cold, fixed on the blue sky above as if searching for answers hidden within its vastness.

His arms folded across his chest, one finger tapping against his other arm in a steady rhythm. His brows furrowed in deep contemplation..

"Sylas Louis, Sylas Louis, I was thinking of giving you more time before settling the scores, yet you lacked self-awareness and went as far as plotting against me when I just left the country on business.

"He clicked his tongue twice. "Tsk, tsk. Truly laughable."

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and placed a call to the police chief through a secured line.

"Hello, this is Davis," he said immediately after the call was picked up.

"Mr. Allen," the police chief greeted, his tone neither overbearing nor humble.

"I'm calling in respect of Vera Allen," Davis said through gritted teeth.

He really wanted to see the guts of the Louis family this time.

In years past, he might have dismissed their schemes as the antics of in-laws testing boundaries.

But this time was different. Since they were already bold enough to move further, bold to plot his destruction, bold to repeat the scheme of the years.

They had stepped far beyond the limits of tolerance. If destruction was what they sought, he was prepared to give them their wish.

Because they had long lost such privilege to treat the Allen family as pawns in their games and hoped nobody would question their guts.

"While she remains in your custody, I hope you can stop anyone from paying her a visit," Davis instructed.

He wouldn't want to lose this crucial axe that would be used in getting the Louis family on their knees.

With the little he had come to know about Sylas, he was not just cold-hearted but also black-hearted; otherwise, his greed wouldn't have engineered him to work against his father when they were both friends.

"Do you have a reason for that?" he asked.

Davis rubbed his brow in frustration. "To keep her alive until I go to court."

"Fair deal," the police chief responded.

It wasn't unusual for "visits" to end with sudden deaths which are eliminations disguised as unfortunate accidents.

Puppets who had outlived their usefulness were often erased, leaving the police to shoulder the blame.

After outlining the terms of the investigation, Davis ended the call. He slipped the phone back into his pocket just as Ethan appeared at the door.

"The arrangements are ready," Ethan said.

Davis gave a curt nod and turned away from the window. "Let's go."he said as he strode towards the door and Ethan followed him out.

The driver took the wheel as they stepped out of the hotel, Ethan settling at the front seat and Davis at the rear.

Fully boarded the driver turned on the ignition as the car slowly left the hotel and joined the traffic with Davis sharing the direction they were supposed to head to.

The driver nodded in acknowledgement as he stepped harder on the gas pedal, and the car raced towards one of the prestigious estates in Country Z.

After one hour of a steady speed on the highway, Davis' car diverted to the left side of the traffic before it began making its way up a long, hilly driveway.

His thoughts raced as he took in the familiar, dominant, and powerful terrain. Some years back, he had always visited this location twice, once or thrice every year as the case might be.

With several security checkpoints along the way and some faces now unfamiliar, he had to pass through the rigorous process of repeating the same name that had been registered over the years. "Dave Raven."

The road was bordered on both sides by a beautifully crafted boulevard, its trees tall and strong lined the path like watchful sentinels.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves cast colorful rays of light onto the moving cars as they sped by.

Finally, the car approached the large, towering main gate and slowed slightly.

With no insignia on the car, it couldn't go in without clarification. Slowly, Davis rolled down the window.

A uniformed guard stepped forward, his piercing gaze fell on Davis for scrutiny, but at the sight of the familiar cold face he had known over the years, he gave a curt nod as he stepped back.

With a soft click, the gate opened smoothly, and the car drove into the vast castle estate that stretched over several kilometers.

As it had been over the years, the castle's architecture spoke volumes of its century-old history. Its surroundings were magnificently carved.

The surrounding lawns were perfectly trimmed, the grass vibrant and green, adding to the grandeur of the estate. Every inch of the land had been maintained with care, a reflection of wealth, power, and legacy.

Davis sighed. It had always been like this just as he remembered. He couldn't help but wonder what the man inside would say.

The last time he visited was before his accident, and after the accident he had ignored his call, hadn't even bothered reaching out, just because he had been ashamed to find him.

He didn't even let him know he was crippled in the accident.

The cars came to a smooth stop in front of the castle's massive stone steps. A guard opened the rear door of the car and bowed slightly.

Davis stepped out, adjusting his cufflinks with composure. Ethan fell into step beside him, his expression tinged with quiet concern. He took a quick glance at Davis and sighed deeply.

He wasn't unaware of every effort he made to end this relationship.

He knew well the years of silence, the effort Davis had taken to sever ties after the accident. The pain of it lingered still.

Inside, the butler greeted him. "It has been long, Dave. What happened? Every effort to reach you was in vain," he lamented, his voice heavy with relief and reproach.

He had been one of the few who had searched tirelessly for Davis. To him, Davis's disappearance had felt like the vanishing of a son.

Underground networks had been tapped, but nothing surfaced. Then came news of an accident involving the Allen heir. Faces matched, but names did not, and so certainty eluded them.

"I will explain later," Davis said, his voice even. "Where is he?".

"Usual spot?"

"He is still grieving the loss?" Davis asked.

The butler hesitated, then shook his head briefly. "Not exactly. This time…it is different."

"A bit different? How so?"

The butler shrugged. "I think he will tell you himself."

He couldn't explain this clearly. With his master's relationship with Davis, there was no doubt he would not inform him about that.

Davis nodded once in understanding, accepting the answer. "Alright, take me to him."

He cast a glance at Ethan who had already settled into the couch and a maid already attending to him.

The butler nodded and led the way, taking him through the hallway leading towards the back of the estate. After a few seconds, they arrived at an open courtyard.

Along the walls that bordered two sides, many clay pots brimmed with flowers, their bright petals fluttering in the gentle breeze.

A beautiful, well-mowed lawn stretched into the distance. Several low stone benches were arranged in strategic positions.

A little fountain trickled quietly, its sound mingling with the songs of distant birds, filling the air with calm.

At the center, a man sat in the recliner, a book in his hand and his glasses firmly attached to his face.

On the table beside him was a glass of freshly made juice. A glance at him showed how serious he was engrossed in the book.

Davis stopped a few meters away from him as he took in the tired frame of the man before him. The butler gave a curt nod and retreated.

Davis took a deep breath and moved forward, stopping at his side, his hands clasped together before him.

From his posture, it was clear he held this figure in high regard.

"Mr. Anders," he greeted with a slight bow.

Josh, noting the presence and the voice of someone beside him, looked up at the familiar voice.

His brow furrowed as recognition flickered. Slowly, he set his book aside and removed his glasses.

He stood, closing the distance with deliberate steps. "Dave?" he asked, as though fearing it might be a dream, as though he wanted to confirm if it was actually him.

"Yes, Mr. Anders," Davis replied.

Josh's composure broke. He pulled Davis into a tight embrace.

"How have you been? Are you alright? What happened? I searched for you endlessly, yet it felt like seeking a needle in a haystack."

"I am sorry," Davis murmured, his voice low. "I made you worry."