Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 253: She’s not Lady Bright...

~Gando Groups~

Alex dropped his phone onto the table with a clatter, pressing his fingers against his temple as a dull ache pulsed through his head.

His eyes shifted to the framed sketch of Lady Bright on the table, her delicate mask etched in soft pencil strokes. stood on the table like a sacred memento.

It wasn’t just a picture. It was a haunting memory. A fixation.

The walls around him bore her image too. The sketches of her in countless outfits, caught in elegant poses, each one more captivating than the last.

Stepping into this cold, domineering CEO’s office felt like entering a private art gallery. Yet every canvas, every artwork told the same story depicting the same woman—Lady Bright.

Behind the grand mahogany desk, he worked relentlessly, files sprawled and scattered, folders wide open before him like puzzle pieces. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed furiously on his computer. He had to race against time to get this document ready.

Across from him sat Nuella, a young, fair lady. Her posture poised, her outfit perfectly curated, every inch the rich heiress she was raised to be. But behind the elegance was a heart unraveling.

"Alex," you can’t tell me there’s no place for me in your life after all these years," her voice trembled slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He didn’t even flinch. "Nuella, save yourself the stress and return to your parents. Tell them to nullify the arrangement. I won’t honour this marriage. You’re not my choice," His words were cold, cutting and final.

Her lips parted, stunned. And then the tears came—quiet, reluctant, painful. She couldn’t believe she had lost Alex.

Her crush on him had blossomed into hope when her parents proposed the marriage. She had accepted with joy, she had imagined their engagement as a fairytale fulfilled, thinking it was a dream come true, not a rejection painted in frost.

But for Alex, it was a nightmare. He never wanted anyone else.

As though a thought struck her, she dried her tears and glared at him. "Alex, are you treating me this way because of your obsession with that unknown lady?" she shrieked.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Alex glanced at her coolly, then rose slowly from his seat. Each step were slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between them. His gaze, menacing, his towering frame cast a shadow over her seated one, and when he spoke, his voice was ice. "Nuella," he whispered darkly, "you don’t speak about her. You don’t call her unknown. Say that again and I swear, you’ll find yourself begging on the street."

He turned without waiting for a response, snatching his essentials from the desk before storming out of the office. His fury radiating from him, pulsed with each stride.

How dare she?

How dare she reduce her to ’unknown’?

Does she even know her worth? Could she even measure up?" He mused as walked to the elevator.

Since the J&D Gala Night, Alex’s life had taken a drastic turn. Love or obsession—whatever it was, it defied explanation. The years Jessica eluded him had been torturous, but worse was losing track of her even on his home turf.

Her mystery, her grace, and the piece of himself he’d left behind that night made it impossible to erase her from his system. Jessica had taken root in a part of him he couldn’t shake loose.

What frustrated him more was his parents’ constant nagging to marry a woman who could never match up—certainly not as Alex Gando’s woman. His lips curled into a mocking smile.

In the elevator, he took a deep breath, leaning back to calm his fraying nerves, wondering why Davis wanted to see him. With no answers, he decided to wait and hear him out first.

When the elevator dinged at the ground floor, Alex stepped out, slid into his car, and drove off. His next stop: Davis’s house.

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Jessica had agreed to meet Alex, prompting Davis to take time explaining the backstory behind it. As he spoke, realization hit Jessica, triggering memories of that night.

She had attended a company’s annual gala night. As usual, whenever her name was mentioned publicly, she concealed herself behind a mask.

She preferred to remain anonymous—far from the intrusive lens of gossip-hungry paparazzi.

Soon, the sound of a car entering the compound signaled Alex’s arrival.

Within moments, Deborah ushered him into the living room, then returned to Davis’s room, knocked gently, and announced the visitor.

Davis wheeled out in his chair to greet him. They exchanged a few pleasantries.

"Were you able to finish the work?" Davis asked.

Alex sighed. "I couldn’t. I left right after your call. Ten minutes isn’t much."

"Yeah, it’s not," Davis agreed.

Deborah brought wine into the sitting room. Alex loosened his tie, frustration clear on his face, uncorked the bottle, refilled his glass, and downed it in one go.

"So?" he finally asked, setting the glass down. "What’s this about?" his sharp gaze settling on Davis.

Davis didn’t smile. "I’m leaving for Country Y tomorrow."

Alex stiffened. "Why now?" he asked, his tone composed.

"Obligations," Davis replied simply. "I’ve done what I came here to do and I still have things to handle in Country Y," Davis answered seriously, his eyes on Alex.

He may have arrived in Noveira quietly, but leaving would be impossible without drawing attention.

Not after establishing the company and briefing shareholders and the board on the new coordination model.

Alex nodded. "When should we expect you back?"

"Can’t say exactly. But when I return, you’ll know," Davis said.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of heels on the staircase. Alex looked up, a figure descended the stairs. It was Jessica. He gave a slight polite nod—cool, distant.

Jessica sighed inwardly. Clearly, to Alex, the only version of her that was known and mattered was Lady Bright. She continued down.

She sat on the couch beside Davis, a faint smile on her lips as she twirled her hair.

She walked down gracefully and sat beside Davis, her fingers playing absentmindedly with a strand of hair, a small smile on her lips. She was calm.

Davis cleared his throat. Alex braced himself, sensing something was about to shift. He refilled his glass and leaned back into the couch.

"Alex," Davis began gently, "I owe you an apology—for keeping this from you, and for bringing it up this way. But I have to tell you before I go."

Alex’s brows drew together, confusion flickering in his eyes.

Davis looked between them. "Meet Lady Bright," he said, motioning to Jessica.

For a moment, time stood still.

Alex followed the gesture, eyes settling on Jessica, locked as he searched for familiarity. She offered no response—not even a greeting. As she watched her calmly.

After a long stare and one hundred and twenty seconds of silence, Alex swallowed hard, then shook his head slowly in disbelief.

Then he chuckled—bitter, broken. He shook his head slowly.

"No," he muttered. "She’s not Lady Bright."