Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption

Chapter 294: I promised to stay safe...

Hearing her mutter that name, their eyes snapped to her, narrowing with shock and unease. For the first time, uncertainty bled into their confident expressions as they tried to comprehend who she truly was.

The identity of the Night Merchant was shrouded in mystery and wasn’t common knowledge. No one knew their faces. No one could track their movements. It wasn’t something anyone could simply uncover.

And more surprising is the fact, it has been identified by this simple woman and the woman had just subdued five trained assassins in her living room.

Yet here she stood totally calm, collected, and utterly unfazed. A far cry from the fragility they expected. She had handled their attack like a seasoned warrior.

Their hearts pounded, fear and uncertainty creeping in as they watched her. Thoughts raced in their minds:

"Who is she?"

"She isn’t simple."

"Mission failed."

Jessica’s eyes narrowed as the realization sank in. She had suspected their identities from the moment the attack began.

She had studied their movements closely, there was a sharpness to their movements, a calculated rhythm in their formation.

These weren’t common thugs.

Every strike, every blow, had purpose and lethality to eliminate the target. There was no doubt anymore. It wasn’t random violence; it was the work of trained operatives —Assassins

Now, with the mark she had uncovered —the crescent dagger tattoo behind their ears, the final puzzle piece clicked into place and her suspicions were confirmed. She knew exactly who they served.

Jessica stood upright, letting the weight of the realization settle over her. Her voice was low, laced with steely control.

"I have no quarrel with your boss," she said quietly, her tone cool and steady. "I haven’t crossed him. I haven’t offended him."

She stepped closer. "So why send trained experts after me?" Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. "What does he want?"

Silence.

Her anger stirred. Without hesitation, she raised the wire and slammed it down on one of their trembling hands.

A scream tore from his throat, fingers flailing as blood spurted from the torn flesh.

She spun toward another, grabbing his hand and clamping it down with slow pressure. He let out a muffled cry—the pain sharp and searing. And she wasn’t even using full force.

"I can do this all night," she warned. Her voice was a chilling whisper. "Talk... or I’ll start with your joints."

The room dropped into an eerie silence. Behind her, Deborah held her breath. The household staff remained frozen, wide-eyed, trembling as the scene unfolds.

Their hearts screamed denial yet in their minds, they scrambled for explanation:

"It’s a hallucination."

"Yes, It’s definitely a dream. She’s just a fragile lady."

"It has to be someone else."

"Madam is gentle. Refined. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t."

"There must be some mistake."

"Madam is kind and well-mannered—it has to be someone else."

But as they watched her unleash pain and fear, eyes sharp with fury, there was no denying the truth. And the blood on her hands and the violence she wrought told a different story.

She was not the woman they thought they knew. Silently, each made a decision. "Never cross her."

Just then, a loud screech of tires echoed from outside. Deborah alarmed rushed toward the door—but before she could reach it...

The front door burst open.

Everyone’s gaze snapped toward it. The tension heightening as they dread it to be another set of assassins.

Jessica turned, her muscles instinctively coiled ready to strike, but the moment her eyes recognized the man rushing toward her, her body faltered.

Davis stormed in like a tempest, eyes blazing. He crossed the room in seconds. "Jessica!"

Behind him, Ethan entered more quietly, his sharp gaze sweeping the room in stunned disbelief. noveldrama

Jessica’s body faltered, her stance collapsing for the first time that night. The barbed wire slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. The men closest to her scrambled away, terrified it might find their skin again.

Her cold gaze softened at the sight of Davis.

Her shoulders sagged.

Relief, sudden and overwhelming, washed over her.

Before she could think or breathe, she was wrapped in his arms—his steps long, his grip tight, as though he might lose her if he let go.

"Ouch," She winced faintly.

Noticing her tremble, Davis slowed and loosened his grip, looking down at her with worry etched into every feature.

But before he could say anything, she slowly wrapped her arms around him, burying herself and her cheek pressed to his chest. She felt his heart hammering wildly in his chest, his breath ragged with panic, his body trembled with anxiety.

Jessica closed her eyes. She felt warmth. She felt safe. Slowly, she caressed his back, the motion tender. She said nothing, but the gesture spoke volumes.

In that moment, all the fear, pain, and exhaustion she had pushed aside came rushing back Her eyes stung—but she blinked the tears away.

Her body, once rigid and poised for battle, began to unravel. In his arms, her defenses collapsed.

She had handled the situation. She had fought—and won. But she hadn’t relaxed for a second. She didn’t know how many more were out there, or what might come next. But one thought had been her anchor through it all:

"Protect the pregnancy at all costs."

Now that he was here, she felt the weight on her chest began to lift. She allowed herself to breathe again.

"Why did you throw caution to the wind and rush in like that?" she whispered, her face resting on his chest.

He exhaled, brushing her hair back. "Are we really still talking about caution at this point?" he murmured. His voice was soft but firm, a mixture of relief and frustration.

He slowly pulled away and stepped back, his eyes scanning her body—bloodstained. Bruises Calm. Alive. He sighed deeply.

But when his gaze caught the bandaged arm, a frost crept into his expression. His jaw clenched.

His hands moved carefully over her clothes, checking the traces of blood—knowing some of it wasn’t hers.

He looked over to the five men groaning on the floor, writhing in pain then back at her. He didn’t need to ask what happened. The evidence was everywhere.

Deborah, Henry, and the other maids stood speechless. They couldn’t believe what they’d witnessed.

"Ethan," Davis said, his voice cold and commanding.

"I’ll handle it, sir," Ethan replied immediately.

Without another word, Davis scooped Jessica into his arms—bridal style. "Let’s get you cleaned up," he murmured softly.

She didn’t protest but rather took a deep breath of relief.

He walked past the chaos. Behind them, the men’s groans echoed through the house as Ethan resumed what Jessica had started.

Up the staircase, Davis held her gaze, his arms steady. He nudged open the bedroom door—and paused.

The room was a mess. Ransacked.

But he didn’t comment.

Instead, he carried her inside and laid her gently on the bed. "Let me run the bath," he said, turning toward the bathroom.

Her hand shot out, grasping his wrist.

He turned back. "What is it?"

Before he could finish the sentence, her lips were on his—a gentle kiss, soft and slow, filled with unspoken emotion.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. But filled with everything she hadn’t said—fear, relief, pain, love.

She had fought fiercely, uncertain whether she would survive. Davis had said he wouldn’t return that night. She had battled with doubt as she fought downstairs:

"Will I win this fight?"

"Will he come in time?"

"If I die... will I get to see him once more?"

At that moment her hand had slowly caressed ring on her finger.

"I promised to stay safe," she thought, her heart aching. "I can’t break that now."

Feeling every of her emotions spoken at that moment. Davis responded with equal tenderness. His arms enfolded her again, relief cradling his heart.

He didn’t want to imagine what he would have felt if she hasn’t been able to face this danger.

But then a serious question gnawed at his mind. "What had happened?"