Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 193: How is my father doing?

After ending the call, Desmond sighed heavily. His expression unreadable as he gazed into the distance. A mixture of frustration and anxiety coursed through his vein. Reluctantly, he turned on his heel, ready to leave the study, but then something caught his eye.

On one of the upper shelves, neatly pla nced but partly hidden behind other files, was a package. Its appearance was different. The file was bound in expensive leather, its surface decorated with intricate carvings and delicate golden patterns. It looked old and important and could easily perhaps pass as a secret.

Desmond’s curiosity got the better of him.

He stepped closer and gently pulled it out. The weight of it confirmed his suspicion—it wasn’t just any ordinary document. Something about the placement, the condition, and the effort taken to protect it made it feel like it held more power than any conversation he could have had.

Without giving it much more thought, Desmond tucked it under his arm. He walked out of the study, closing the door softly behind him with a click.

As he walked down the hallway of the Allen mansion, his mind raced. He needed to return to the company.

He needed to come up with a plan. One thing was now clear to him: if the Allen family wouldn’t willingly give him the rightful place he deserved, he would have to take it by force or cunning. He wasn’t going to stand by while others decided his future —not now, not anymore.

~At the Central Hospital~

Meanwhile, the ambulance carrying Elder Allen arrived at Central Hospital. The paramedics quickly moved him onto a stretcher and rushed him into the emergency ward. The doors swung open and shut with urgency as doctors and nurses gathered around to begin immediate resuscitation.

Outside the emergency room, Alfred waited anxiously. He paced a few steps, then stopped, his eyes fixed on the door.

His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, and his heart was beating rapidly with fear. He had known for some time that Elder Allen’s health had been worsening, but he didn’t expect Desmond to show up suddenly and stir things up to this extent.

He looked around the hospital hall, his eyes searching for Desmond, but the man was nowhere to be found.

It was shocking. His own father had collapsed and was fighting for his life, and yet Desmond didn’t even bother to follow the ambulance. It was like he didn’t care. Like it wasn’t his blood that had just been rushed into intensive care.

Alfred closed his eyes briefly, trying to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t help but wonder—was this the reason Elder Allen had been so reluctant to hand over the family business to Desmond? Or was there another, even deeper reason?

His thoughts were interrupted when the doors of the emergency room swung open again. Doctors and nurses wheeled Elder Allen out on a hospital bed. Several IV drips hung on poles beside him, connected to both of his arms. The old man looked pale and weak, his eyes tightly shut, his chest slowly rising and falling.

Alfred rushed to the side but was gently held back by a doctor.

"You’re a family member?" the doctor asked, his eyes scanning Alfred curiously.

"Yes," Alfred replied quickly, nodding. He was ready to receive updates—his ears perked, hoping for good news.

"What medication did you give him before bringing him here?" the doctor asked, his voice serious and his gaze sharp, as if trying to catch a lie.

Alfred frowned. "Is... is something wrong?" he asked nervously. His hands trembled slightly. The idea that the medicine he gave might have harmed the old man terrified him. frёeωebɳovel.com

The doctor shook his head. "Not really," he said, "but you’re lucky. The drug helped stabilize his condition just long enough to keep him alive until we got him here. If not for that, the pressure in his chest might have caused something worse—maybe even a rupture."

He paused, still looking at Alfred. "I just want to know where you got it. That kind of medication isn’t easy to come by."

Alfred let out a deep breath of relief.

"It was a gift," he said, avoiding details. He didn’t dare mention that it came from Jessica, the daughter-in-law. What if they needed more? If her identity was revealed too soon, it might complicate things even further.

"How is his condition now?" Alfred asked.

The doctor sighed again. "He’s out of immediate danger, but he’ll need to stay here in the hospital. He cannot go through stress or face any more emotional shocks. His body can’t handle it."

Alfred nodded in understanding. But just as he turned to leave, the doctor added a final warning.

"Another attack like this, and he might not survive. He needs complete rest and constant care."

Alfred froze.

Those words hit him hard. He had always feared the worst case scenario but hearing him say this isn’t part of it. Slowly, he nodded once more, then turned to walk toward the ward where Elder Allen was now resting. Each step he took felt heavy.

Arriving the ward, Alfred pushed open the door gently. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.

Elder Allen lay motionless in the hospital bed, wrapped in blankets. His face was pale, sunken, and frail. The strong, proud man that once led the Allen family with authority now looked like a shadow of himself.

Alfred’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He walked slowly to the bedside, adjusted the blanket carefully, and tucked the old man’s hands beneath it.

"You have to get better, sir," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You must not leave like this. Not when everything is still falling apart."

For a few long moments, he stood there in silence, just watching. He knew what Elder Allen meant to the family. He knew the legacy he carried, the name he built.

Without him, the family would lose more than just a leader—they would lose their foundation most especially now that chaos looks over the family with Desmond greedy for power, Davis crippled and missing with his wife.

And Alfred had no one else to depend on. Until they returned, he had to protect the elder. He would take care of him himself if he had to.

He made a mental note: when Elder Allen got a little stronger, he would hire a trustworthy caregiver. But until then, he wouldn’t leave his side, he wouldn’t dare risk any mishap or carelessness.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting into his thoughts.

He took it out and checked the screen. The name on the caller ID made his expression turn dark. Rage welled up inside him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had to hear what the man had to say.

"Sir?" Alfred answered coldly, his voice flat and emotionless.

"How is my father doing?" Desmond’s voice came through the speaker, casual and uncaring.

The tone didn’t escape Alfred. It wasn’t just the words—it was the attitude. There was no panic. No worry. Just curiosity, like someone asking about the weather.

Alfred’s jaw clenched, his hands balled into a fist. Should Desmond be before him, he doubt he wouldn’t punch him in the face.

Desmond was trying to act concerned, but he couldn’t. His voice lacked the warmth a real son would have. It lacked guilt. It lacked any sign of fear or regret but then he wouldn’t continue deceiving himself.

He had once tried to pretend everything was okay. Maybe he had once hoped things would change. But now, it was clear. He is not treated as an Allen and he would cease trying to be an Allen not until he gets his right as an Allen.