Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption
Chapter 115: What’s happening?

Chapter 115: What’s happening?

~At the Hotel Room~

By the time Vera stirred on the bed, it was already ten o’clock. The morning sun stood high in the sky, casting bright rays through the curtains. She felt weak and drained, having been too exhausted last night that she couldn’t even have her dinner

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her gaze scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Her thoughts spun as she struggled to piece together the events of the previous night.

A dull throb pulsed in her head, and she instinctively raised a hand to rub her temple. Then, a blurry image flashed through her mind, striking a chord. Her body tensed as she sat up abruptly, her eyes darting around the room in growing panic.

"Hotel room," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A moment later, her breath hitched, her chest tightening as her heart pounded wildly. Memories of the previous night crashed over her in an overwhelming wave, flooding her mind in vivid detail of its event.

Her eyes darted around the room once more, slowly taking in every detail—the exquisite, untouched meal from last night, a glass of water resting on the bedside table, the drawn blinds shielding the room from excessive sunlight, the lavish furnishings, and a couch positioned near the window. The bathroom door stood glaringly opposite the bed, and at the side of the bed, a neatly packed bag sat—it had just been purchased.

The sight of the bag triggered a memory. My clothes... she mumbled under her breath. But then she recalled, in the heat of the moment, it had been torn into shreds.

Her gaze dropped to the duvet covering her body, her fingers curling into the fabric. Beneath it, she wore a man’s shirt—its scent unmistakably familiar. A wave of hesitation washed over her; she dared not lift the duvet, afraid of what she might discover.

Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath. Too many thoughts swirled in her head, colliding chaotically. With trembling fingers, she picked up her phone from the bedside table. The screen lit up, and her eyes widened in shock—twenty missed calls.

She quickly scrolled through the list, surprise flashing across her face. For the first time, Aaron had called her ten times. The remaining missed calls were from her father, mother, and a few friends.

"A shiver ran down her spine. I hope I haven’t been declared missing overnight," she muttered, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips.

Her eyes swept across the room again, searching for any sign of him. But he was nowhere in sight.

She shook her head lightly. Yet, strangely, she didn’t feel anxious rather a deep-seated assurance settled within her—the kind that whispered, Even if the sky were falling, he would hold it up for me.

With a small shrug, she stretched her limbs. What she needed now was a bath—a warm, soothing, sensual bath to wash away the fatigue remaining of last night.

As she pulled the duvet away and stepped down from the bed, a small piece of paper fluttered onto the floor. Curious, she picked it up and read the note scribbled on it.

"Babe, can you not be angry with me concerning last night?"

Vera’s lips curled into a small smirk. "I thought you were so bold last night? Why are you running now?" she mused, amusement dancing in her eyes.

With that, she strolled toward the bathroom. The moment she stepped inside, she froze.

The bath had already been prepared—the water heated to the perfect temperature, delicate rose petals sprinkled across its surface.

The sight was something straight out of a fairy tale, a life fit for a princess, a life she had only imagined but never had the opportunity to live..

A deep sense of relief and contentment washed over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt relieved. she wasn’t bothered about last night, nor was she worried about the people who had called her incessantly.

She simply made a mental note to call Merit—her closest friend, the one who was more like a sister—when she was done.

Standing in front of the mirror, Vera looked at herself, the oversized shirt barely reached a few inches above her knees, exposing her long, straight legs. With a slow measured fumbling, she slowly unbuttoned the shirt, the fabric slipping open to reveal glimpses of her skin.

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as her eyes locked onto her reflection. There, scattered across her skin, were faint but unmistakable marks—hickeys, some concealed, others glaringly obvious. Strawberry-tinted bruises. Too many.

A wave of worry settled in her chest. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over the marks, as if to confirm they were real. How am I going to hide these? she thought, her brows furrowing.

With a deep breath, she forced the thoughts aside. She needed a bath first—then she could deal with everything else.

Without another moment of hesitation, she slid into the waiting bathtub. The warm water wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, engulfing her body in its soothing heat.

She let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the tub as the gentle ripples massaged her tense muscles and frayed nerves, dissolving the lingering tension from the previous night.

After a good bath, Vera stepped out of the bathroom, a white fluffy towel wrapped snugly around her chest. Droplets of water clung to her slightly damp hair as she padded into the bedroom.

"You’re done?" Trevor asked. His deep, magnetic voice sending a cold shiver down her spine.

Her gaze snapped toward the source of the voice, and there he was—Trevor, seated comfortably on the couch, his piercing eyes locked onto her.

At the sight of her, he rose slowly, step by step, his movements deliberate.

Vera felt warmth creeping up her cheeks. It had been a long time since she had felt this way... The last time was with Davis.

Even now, just the thought of his name made her heart stutter, but she quickly pushed it away. The man standing before her wasn’t Davis. He was her special guard. Her assistant. And yet...

For the first time since last night, a wave of embarrassment washed over her. How was she supposed to address him now? A guard? A secret lover? An assistant? Or—

"No," she murmured, shaking her head lightly. She dared not entertain such thoughts.

Trevor, his unwavering gaze never leaving her, took in the flickering emotions on her face. He didn’t need to ask—he already knew what was running through her mind.

In a few light steps, he closed the distance between them.

His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a firm embrace. His face nestled into the crook of her neck as he inhaled deeply, the scent of her shower gel filling his senses.

"I will be anyone you want me to be," he murmured against her skin. "You don’t have to worry about that."

Vera sighed. Maybe now wasn’t the time to overthink things. She didn’t pull away from his embrace, only managing to swallow lightly.

"Tre... Trevor, I want to dry my hair," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. It was the only excuse she could muster to step away from this sinful comfort.

Trevor’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but he didn’t push. Instead, he took a step back and opened a nearby drawer, retrieving a hairdryer.

Without a word, he gently took her hand and led her to the bed, guiding her to sit down. He stood behind her, his fingers threading through her damp locks as he meticulously dried her hair.

Vera’s hands fidgeted in her lap. Her thoughts spun wildly. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would feel this unsettled, this... vulnerable.

A long silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice contemplative.

"What’s happening outside?"