Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 271: Sometimes Justice isn’t loud...

"Truth? Was there ever truth in this family while I was left in the dark about my origin?" Desmond’s voice trembled as fury burned in his chest.

"Do you speak the truth? Yet you couldn’t accept that an adopted son is still a son?" His tone was a mixture of grief and accusation.

"I’m beginning to see the Allen family differently—a family more obsessed with bloodline than with loyalty or love."

Elder Allen’s face darkened like an approaching storm. He wouldn’t allow Desmond to tarnish the family name any further.

With emotions spiraling, Desmond felt the ground beneath his feet shift. If this continued, he feared he might collapse or completely lose control. But still, a deeper question pulled at his core and he needed answers.

Torn between storming out of the hospital ward or staying to hear the rest, his mind spiraled. He wanted to know the truth. Where did he come from? What was real?

Then the old man’s voice broke through his thoughts, calm and deliberate:

"You might care to take a look at the folder you took from the study." Elder Allen’s eyes held a knowing glint as he smirked.

Desmond’s breath caught.

Desmond froze, as though the ground beneath his feet had been ripped away.

The folder... He recalled it now. He had picked up a sealed envelope from the study some time ago but had never opened it. He hadn’t even looked through it.

But after this statement, he knew exactly what he would do once he got home. He would read it. Word for word.

Jessica shifted beside Davis. "Grandpa, what can be done now?" she asked softly.

The secret of the Allen family had nothing to do with her. Their roles and lineage weren’t hers to manage. Still, she found herself involved—because her husband stood at the center of it all.

Elder Allen drew a deep breath, then scanned the faces of those before him. Their eyes lingered on his lips, anxious for his next declaration.

Clearing his throat, he finally said:

"Now... the board must know the truth. It’s time the rightful heir of the Allen family takes his place."

He turned to Desmond, his voice steady.

"Desmond, you will no longer stand in line to inherit what was never yours by blood. But I will not leave you with nothing. You have served the company faithfully. You deserve a portion. But not the crown."

Desmond stood slowly, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I see. Thank you for your honesty," he said, his voice coated in fury.

"But don’t think for a second that I’ll go quietly. If it’s war you want... then war you shall have."

"Nobody’s asking for war," Davis said with a faint smirk.

Desmond’s gaze snapped to Davis, cold and razor-sharp. His heart pounded, his thoughts a messy tangle of rage and heartbreak.

"Davis, you don’t have to rejoice just yet. This battle isn’t over—and it can’t be. Because I, Desmond, am not some random person to be picked up and dropped at convenience."

He stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the tiled floor as it was shoved back. Jessica flinched at the sound.

Elder Allen opened his mouth to speak, but Desmond had already stepped away.

"I should have known," he muttered bitterly, his voice colder now, sharper—more dangerous than before. "All the years I gave to this name... wasted."

"You’re still family," Elder Allen tried again, voice gentler.

Desmond turned, his stare ablaze.

"No. I was never family. You just said it yourself. We share no blood. I guess you’re hoping I’ll take the door."

He stepped toward the exit, then paused, his back turned to them.

"Enjoy your little reunion," he hissed, venom dripping from each word. "But don’t think for a second that I’m done."

He pushed the door open with such force that it bounced off the wall and he stormed out of the ward without a backward glance.

Alfred sighed deeply. Jessica stared at the now-swinging door, her heart thudding in her chest.

Elder Allen’s gaze dropped. His face reflected quiet sorrow, and he slumped slightly into the bed, breathing heavily.

Davis’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but when he spoke, his voice was calm.

"He won’t take this lightly."

"No," the old man murmured tiredly. "He won’t. And that... is what worries me."

Davis reached out and placed a hand gently on his grandfather’s arm.

"You take it easy," he said, patting it lightly. "We’ll handle it—but one step at a time."

The silence that filled the ward was laden with unspoken emotions. Its quietness spoke volumes. Everyone left with his own thought.

After what felt like ages, Elder Allen broke the silence.

"I think the time has come to inform the board about Desmond," he said slowly, his voice firm though wearied by age. "They have the right to know the truth—that he is not an Allen by blood."

Jessica and Davis exchanged a glance. She looked to Davis first before shifting her gaze to the old man.

"Grandpa," Davis began after a beat, his voice calm but resolute. "I understand why you feel that way. And you’re not wrong. Desmond has crossed too many lines."

Elder Allen gave a short nod. "Then why hesitate?"

"Because doing that will open wounds we can’t close," Davis replied. "The board is loyal, yes, but they’re also businessmen. They care about legacy, about brand strength and public image. If we expose this now, it won’t stop with them. Leaks happen, whispers spread. The media will pounce."

Jessica gently added, "And when the press gets hold of it, it becomes more than just a family issue. It becomes a scandal."

The old man frowned. "But don’t we owe it to the truth?"

"Yes, we do," Davis said, "but we owe more to the stability of the Allen Group. The Groups had been riddled with scandals and problems and now, If the board finds out Desmond isn’t an Allen, some may see it as betrayal. Others may try to manipulate the situation for their own gain."

Elder stared at him for a while "Don’t you think being hesitant is even more dangerous than the scandal?"

Jessica sighed. "Grandpa, don’t you think you might destroy all of your efforts in haste? Just like Desmond said, he has been the one managing the group. Though he may have done it poorly and might have been manipulated, the truth remains that he has worked for the Allen Group."

Davis added, "Forcing Desmond out of the group is not wise rather it had to be handled carefully. Remove him from sensitive operations. Redirect power to people you trust. If we confront him publicly, we risk giving him something to fight against. But including him can control the situation and probably change it.

As much as he wanted to seek justice for his parents, he still had to consider the greater good of everyone and everything.

The old man sighed, pressing a hand to his temple.

Jessica looked at Davis, then back at Elder Allen. "Sometimes justice isn’t loud, Grandpa. Sometimes it’s silent... and permanent."

Davis nodded. "We’re not excusing what he’s done. But we need to be smarter than him. We expose this now, we risk everything. We wait, we choose the battlefield."

Elder Allen leaned back into his pillows, his fingers clasped together on his lap. After a moment of quiet reflection, he nodded.

"You’ve both grown wiser than I expected," he murmured. "Very well. We won’t tell the board. For now."

Davis and Jessica glanced at each other in relief. "Thank you, Grandpa."

"But you must act fast," Elder Allen warned. "Desmond is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them."

"I know," Davis said. "I’ll take care of it."

A soft ding echoed, alerting her of a call. She glanced at the screen. Her brows lifted in surprise, then tensed.

"The Santiagos," she muttered quietly.

"Excuse me," she said softly, offering Davis a small smile as she rose. She stepped into the hallway just outside the ward and stared at the name on her screen for a few seconds. It was long overdue. She inhaled deeply, then answered.

"Good day, Lady Matilda," Jessica said, her voice steady but carrying a thread of nervousness.

"Jessica, my dear. How are you?" the voice on the other end was warm, familiar... and maternal.

Jessica blinked at the kindness in the tone. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t scripted. It was real. And that’s what unsettled her the most.

"I’m fine, ma’am," she replied, forcing a smile though no one could see it.

The woman on the line hesitated for a breath before speaking again. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important."

Jessica shook her head slightly. "Not at all."

There was another short pause. Then came the question Jessica had somehow expected and feared.

"I was wondering," Lady Matilda said gently, "if you’d honour us with your presence at dinner sometime soon. Just something small. Quiet. You mentioned before you’d visit after your trip."

Jessica’s heart skipped. She remembered that promise. It felt like a lifetime ago.

And now, everything inside her wanted to stall, to ask for more time but deep down, she knew the time had come. The Santiagos weren’t just a family name. They held answers. To her questions. To her past.

To her mother.

Still, Jessica didn’t answer right away. Her gaze shifted down the hallway to where Davis waited inside the ward. She needed to speak with him before saying anything final.

"I’ll check my schedule, ma’am," she said softly. "And I’ll let you know the best day."

There was a soft breath of relief from the other end. "Thank you, my dear," Lady Matilda said. Her voice sounded lighter. "That means a great deal to us. Truly."

Jessica felt her throat tighten. "I’ll be in touch soon."

As she ended the call, Jessica lowered the phone and leaned slightly against the wall. Her eyes fell shut for a moment.

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