Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption novel Chapter 304

Chapter 304: Stand-in President?

Hearing the question, Desmond glared at him, wishing he could shoot arrows from his eyes and send him straight to join his parents in the world beyond.

Among all the worst-case scenarios he had imagined for today, meeting a walking Davis was not one of them. He had expected the setup on the road to bring back good news—perhaps that Davis was in the hospital again, just like before.

And if that plan failed, he had been prepared to convince the board to vote in his favor, presenting Davis’s incapacity as a major setback. But now, seeing him standing here in the flesh—alive, composed, and very much in control—there was no way Desmond would let him win easily.

His lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"Dear nephew... don’t be in such a hurry to oust me from the seat," he sneered, a challenging glint flashing in his eyes.

Davis raised a brow at him, silently granting his uncle the permission to speak.

He wasn’t in a rush. Let him speak. He was curious to see how far Desmond would stretch his narrative.

He was ready to see where this drama would end. Desmond returned his gaze, the tension between them thick as smoke.

The board members exchanged glances amongst themselves. The atmosphere was charged and the tension palpable. No one interrupted. They all knew what this was. This was no ordinary boardroom discussion—it was a standoff. A battle of titans.

Desmond straightened his back and spoke with the practiced authority of someone who had held the reins.

"Ever since your accident last year, I’ve single-handedly handled the affairs of this group," Desmond began, pacing slightly, his voice calm but charged with authority.

"Several major projects were left hanging and incomplete after your... unfortunate incident and I was forced to step in. With the Old man hospitalized, it fell on me to complete the deals." I negotiated, signed, and delivered on those deals. Right here. From this very chair."

He paused, he let the words hang in the air, the weight of his words settling in heavy with implications.

He didn’t need to say more. The insinuation was clear:

You abandoned the company. I saved it.

I carried this company when you couldn’t.

Davis gave a slow nod.

"Uncle," he said, voice calm, cool, deliberate and sharp, "having been in the business world for so long, I trust you understand the meaning of the word ’stand-in’—in both professional tone and corporate terminology."

The word hit like a slap.

Desmond stiffened. His heart clenched involuntarily. The calm mask slipped ever so slightly. The word struck deeper than he expected.

His eyes blazed with fury, and his fists clenched at his sides. That word. That term. He had spent years resenting it.

It had followed him like a shadow—always temporary, always second-best. The very injustice and humiliation he had long suppressed now echoed again in front of the board.

"Davis Allen, don’t be presumptuous," he growled without flinching,

"Uncle," Davis continued coolly, "after my father died, you stood in for him for a few months until my grandfather took over."

"So?" Desmond challenged, voice rising.

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