Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption

Chapter 313: How terrible your instincts are..

Richard stood beside Davis, his gaze sweeping over the fitting room that had once been packed with wardrobe racks and shimmering fabrics. Now, it was disturbingly empty. His pulse raced as the implications sank in. Davis sighed, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with silent rage.

"Who gave the report that the items in the room were missing?" Davis asked, his tone clipped and cold.

"After witnessing the situation with the models, I had a feeling things wouldn’t end there. So I contacted every department to check the state of things. That was when I got the report," Richard replied.

He hesitated, then added, "But by the time I arrived here, the young man who gave the report was nowhere in sight. I’ve been trying his number ever since, but it hasn’t gone through."

He didn’t want to start drawing conclusions yet—solving the problem was more urgent than investigating it for now. noveldrama

Davis said nothing for a moment. He strode to the door, slowly twisted the handle and it fell off in his hand.

Richard blinked, startled. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came. "How did it come off? I opened the door with a key earlier, both when I first arrived and just now."

"It’s possible it was tampered with by someone experienced," Davis replied flatly.

He turned and walked back into the room. His eyes scanned each corner, sweeping over the floor and every surface that might have been touched or disturbed or feet might have stepped.

"Don’t you think the materials were smuggled out some hours before daybreak?" Davis asked without turning.

Richard nodded. "I had the same suspicion. These materials were confirmed to be in place late last night."

"Who confirmed it?"

"I did," Richard answered.

Richard thought back. He had seen a hotel staff member loitering on the floor, claiming he was delivering something to a guest but had mistaken the room. The excuse had felt innocent and flimsy then, but with everything that followed, it now felt suspicious. much.

"Did you notice anything odd?" Davis asked, noticing the slight tension that crept into Richard’s face as his brow furrowed in thought.

"A staff member passed by but his gaze was aversive," Richard admitted.

Davis turned his gaze toward the ceiling. The camera was mounted at an angle that should have covered the entire floor. "It seems the camera wasn’t just tampered with. It was destroyed."

Richard cursed under his breath.

"I’ve thought of a solution," Richard began quickly. "We could replace the missing outfits with some of the company’s stocked designs. At least we’ll have something to work with." He suggested

But even as he spoke, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Measurements would need to be adjusted, selections made, and transportation arranged—all while the clock was ticking.

"There’s no need for that," Davis said coldly.

Richard stared at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You should go ahead and handle other matters. I’ll let you know when it’s time to pick them up."

"P-Pick up?" Richard asked, bewildered.

"What? Isn’t that what you do when you’re getting something?" Davis replied dryly.

Richard exhaled heavily. Pick up or receive—it didn’t matter anymore as long as the show didn’t collapse.

"I think the models should be arriving soon. I’ll go meet them," he said, then exited the room.

Davis took a calming breath and scanned the room one last time before turning on his heel toward the exit. Ethan followed silently, deep in thought about how to help resolve the situation.

"Get me your laptop," Davis said quietly, his tone like ice.

Ethan didn’t question it. He handed over his laptop immediately as they walked toward the private suite arranged for Davis. Just then, Davis’s phone buzzed. It was Jessica.

With a fluid swipe, he answered the call. "Baby," he greeted lazily.

She paused for a beat, listening to the silence on his end. "Have you arrived?" she asked cautiously.

Davis glanced around the hallway, scanning every point. "Just arrived."

"Is everything okay?" Her voice tensed ever so slightly.

"No problems," Davis replied with a chuckle. "What? Are you missing me?"

"Not just that," she murmured. "I feel something is wrong. I can’t explain it, but my instincts are screaming. All is not well."

His heart skipped a beat. Her instincts were rarely wrong. But he steadied himself. She couldn’t know what was happening yet.

"Baby, can you pause the worrying for a bit?" he said, rubbing his temple.

"I know I shouldn’t, but since you left, that feeling has been tugging at my heartstrings."

"Alright," Davis said gently. "Any idea what it might be?"

"No idea. Just... be extra careful, okay?"

A rare smile tugged at Davis’s lips. He could imagine her pouting on the other end of the line. He was grateful he was the one he thought of even amidst the chaos. Her concern was genuine and encouraging.

"Don’t worry, I’m always careful. If you’re done with the meeting, can you head home and get ready?"

"What about you?"

"Don’t worry. I’ll join you before you’re even dressed," he said with a soft laugh.

After exchanging a few more words, they ended the call.

"How terrible your instincts are, Jessica," Davis muttered, though the tension in his jaw said otherwise.

He pushed open the suite door. "Let’s go," he said, motioning Ethan inside.

Once seated on the couch, Davis opened the laptop and began pulling up data. "Get me the original and revised building plans for this hotel," he instructed.

Ethan blinked. "Building plans?"

"Yes. I have a strong feeling the materials haven’t left this hotel. They’re still here—hidden."

Davis’s voice was calm but razor-sharp.

"Also," he continued, "station security at every exit, entrance, emergency stairwell, and even the roof. No one moves anything until I say so. This has to be uncovered within the next few minutes. Treat it as urgent."

Ethan nodded, as he opened his bag to pull out a spare laptop that is always with him and began typing out.

The clock was ticking. The models were en route. The guests would begin arriving shortly.

For Davis, this is a game he must win. Dialing a secured contact, "I want to see your manager. Can you send him to my suite."