Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption novel Chapter 232

Chapter 232: A day to relaunch...

~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.

#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.

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