Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption

Chapter 292: You might lose your wife...

Davis felt his heart thumping hard, but now was not the time to be rash. He took a deep breath and schooled his temper. With someone willing to give him a clear picture of what is actually going.

"Spectrum, what exactly is going on in the Allen family that you mentioned?"

Spectrum sighed and slowly leaned back in his seat. The Allen family had been in turmoil over the past few months. Word had it that there was a quest for a power shift, and ever since the accident involving their grandson, everything had taken a different turn.

He went on to narrate several incidents, including some of Desmond’s suspicious moves.

Davis’s eyes narrowed in thought. "What else is drawing people’s attention?"

At the question, Spectrum gave a small laugh. His face darkened as the thought crossed his mind.

"A prototype... one that has already claimed life," he said coldly, a smile playing bitterly on his lips.

His gaze pierced into the distance, emotions swirling in his eyes. But at this point, Davis wasn’t concerned with reading his expression.

He took a deep breath, his hand clenched by his side at the thought of the old man.

After a while, Davis stood up to leave. His legs felt heavy, his heart burdened with questions.

"Why is Desmond going this far?" he muttered. noveldrama

As he stepped out of the underground casino, he spotted his subordinate pacing anxiously by the entrance. Davis raised a brow.

"What happened?"

"Are you okay?" the young man asked, looking him over. A second later, his expression shifted in realization.

"You can walk again?" he asked, a tinge of happiness in his voice.

Davis glanced at him, lips curling slightly. "Just recovering," he replied.

The subordinate nodded, genuinely happy for his boss. But after a moment of quiet observation, he arrived at a conclusion—Davis wasn’t making his recovery public yet. The wheelchair was still tucked away in the car trunk.

Davis glanced around. "Let’s go. There’s an urgent matter to attend to."

Once inside the car, Davis pulled out his phone and began typing rapidly, sending a flurry of instructions to Ethan.

"Go to the hospital," he muttered with a smirk, fingers still flying over the screen.

After a while, his phone rang. A rare smile crept across his face as he slid his thumb over the green button to answer.

He cast a subtle glance at the time on the phone screen and sighed deeply.

"What?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Can’t sleep," came the short reply.

Davis sighed. He had expected that.

"Babe, you have to try. Remember, you can’t afford to be stressed right now," he coaxed softly.

"I tried but it’s not working." She mumbled , a tinge of frustration in her voice.

They chatted for a little while longer, and then the call ended. Davis sighed. Just handle this last task and return home speedily.

Davis leaned his head back against the soft headrest, his thoughts swirling in the quiet hum of the car.

~At the hospital~

The hospital hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights humming softly as midnight approached. The scent of antiseptic lingered like a ghost.

The usually heavily guarded private ward had only a few security personnel stationed nearby, making it appear unguarded to the untrained eye.

Suddenly, the security camera in the hallway blinked twice, then went dark.

A lone nurse in soft-soled shoes entered through the west stairwell, pushing a medicine cart. Her footsteps echoed through the corridor as she headed toward the room.

Her badge read Mercy, but her face was unfamiliar. Her expression was calm and collected.

With a soft push, she opened the door to the ward and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit. On the bed lay a sleeping man, his breathing even, his body well covered by the duvet. The room was warm, comfortably conditioned.

The woman approached the bedside. She didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, she glanced around the room with a sigh slipping from her lips.

Quietly, she drew a vial from her coat pocket. Inside, a clear liquid swirled—neurotoxin, untraceable after three hours.

She reached for his hand beneath the duvet—but in a flash, the man’s hand clamped tightly around hers. Her eyes widened just before instinct took over.

She moved to strike, but the figure on the bed sprang upright and knocked the vial from her grip.

A rapid exchange of moves followed. She was quick, but he was faster. A strike to her shoulder left her arm numb and her breath caught in her throat. She realized then—this man wasn’t easy to subdue.

Deciding she had to retreat before drawing attention, she made for the door. But her opponent wasn’t giving her the chance.

Desperate, she drew a gun and aimed at the man—only for a sharp tingling sensation to shoot through her arm. The gun clattered to the floor with a thud. Her head snapped toward the intruder.

"How dare you?" she hissed, lunging forward to break past him. But she was grabbed and yanked back.

Pain exploded in her side, and blood began to trickle to the floor. "Impossible," she muttered under her breath.

Davis yanked her close, deftly removing the Bluetooth device from her ear. A voice buzzed through the tiny speaker.

"You’ve failed your mission. Follow protocol. Do not return."

The line went dead.

The assassin’s eyes met Davis’s. She knew in that moment—she’d been abandoned.

She tried to bite her tongue, but Davis was quicker. He slapped her sharply across the face, the blow reverberating through her body.

She blinked in shock, momentarily dazed. His face was unreadable—cold as ice.

"You always take the long route," he muttered.

Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Is there some mistake?"

"What mistake?" Davis asked, dragging a chair over and sitting down. His hand gripped her chin while the guards restrained her.

"The target isn’t here. How do you find out?" She asked.

"Who sent you?" His voice was dangerously calm.

She coughed, blood seeping from the corner of her lips. "Does it matter now? I’ve already been discarded."

"I don’t like repeating myself. Who. Sent. You?"

A mocking smirk tugged at her lips. "Don’t you think you’re too late? The Allen family’s fate is already sealed. And they won’t stop here."

"Who are they?" Davis demanded.

The woman laughed weakly. "Top-tier... Does it matter? Can you fight them?"

Davis’s fists clenched, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. But he held back.

"You’re really handsome," she murmured, eyes still on his face. Her expression twisted slightly as a sharp pain gripped her stomach.

"Handsome or not, you’ll get nothing from me. And you can’t keep my life."

"What do you mean?" he asked, gut twisting with foreboding.

"It’s been programmed. My death is inevitable. I failed my mission—there is no redemption," she said, her breathing shallow and strained.

His subordinates glanced at him for direction. It was becoming evident—something had been triggered in her system, remotely shutting her down.

They tried to stabilize her, but her agency had already decided to silence her.

After a moment, she looked up at Davis, her voice barely a whisper.

"I can only do you this favor for this feeling... return to your house now, or you’ll lose your wife tonight."

Before Davis could ask more, she curled up in agony, clutching her stomach. Her body convulsed, veins bulging—then she went still.

Outside, alarms began to blare. Footsteps echoed as hospital security closed in.

But none of that mattered to Davis.

Only one sentence echoed in his mind:

"You might lose your wife tonight."