Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273: Distraught Desmond

~Allen Family House~

Desmond drove into the Allen estate, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he pulled to a halt in front of the grand family residence. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath ragged with suppressed emotion.

"From the beginning till now... I’ve been treated like an outsider," he muttered bitterly, slamming the car door shut. "All this while, I thought I was fighting for what was rightfully mine."

He stormed into the house, fury radiating from every step. The silence that greeted him in the living room only deepened the roar in his mind. The vast space, once a symbol of pride, now felt foreign, cold and accusing.

Without wasting a moment, he marched upstairs and into his bedroom where the answers he is to find lay. He went straight to his drawer, yanked it open, and retrieved the sealed folder he had secretly taken from Elder Allen’s study the night the old man went into shock and got hospitalized.

His fingers trembled slightly as he sat heavily on his bed, the large folder in hand, his heart dreading the result inside.

For a long moment, he just stared at it, his mind playing through every conversation, every whisper, every sideways glance he’d dismissed over the years. Even the memory of Elder Allen asking him if he loves the family.

Now it made sense, now he understood. Now he understood why he does everything to placate him.

Slowly, deliberately, he opened the envelope.

Inside, there were aged documents and a collection of old photographs. The first image made his breath hitch. It was a black-and-white picture of a small infant wrapped in a cloth. Tucked behind it was another photo with Elder Allen and his late wife smiling as they cradled a baby. It was the same baby.

His heart thudded wildly as he unfolded the next paper. Legal documents. Birth certificate. Adoption agreement. Signatures. The proof was undeniable.

Desmond’s eyes widened in disbelief, then slowly clouded with unshed tears. His lips parted, but no sound came. His body slumped forward as though the weight of truth had collapsed his spine.

"This... this can’t be..." he whispered hoarsely.

He clutched the photo of Elder Allen tighter, hands shaking. "So it’s true. I wasn’t born into this family... I was taken in."

His throat tightened, and he blinked back the moisture blurring his vision.

"All these years, I fought, I bled, I sacrificed. I lived by the name Allen, thinking it was mine by birth, by right."

He laughed bitterly, the sound broken and hollow. "But I was never truly one of them."

He stared at the documents again, hoping they would somehow change. That the ink would dissolve and rewrite a new truth. But it didn’t.

"Does this mean I was wrong all along? That I was never meant to stand at the forefront?" he asked the silence, hoping for an answer.

His mind raced with years of memories—family dinners, corporate meetings, being addressed as ’Young Master Desmond.’ Had it all been a lie wrapped in kindness?

Desmond ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his jaw. Rage boiled beneath the pain.

Shame tangled with betrayal. And somewhere within it all was the overwhelming sting of rejection—blatantly told "you are not Allen."

"Is this why he always chose Alex and Davis over me?" he choked out. "Because I was never truly his blood?"

He stood abruptly, sending the papers fluttering to the floor. He stared down at them, at the life he thought was his, now scattered in fragments before him.

"No, I have to find out everything, who am I? Where do I come from, and why am I abandoned? And if the Allen family thought this revelation would end this quest for the heir, they were sorely mistaken.

Tears fell unchecked as he whispered to himself, "I may not be an Allen by blood, but I will not fade into the background."

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