The Forced Marriage: The Journey Begins

Chapter Twenty-Two

When they returned to the hotel room, Sarah sank into the plush armchair by the window, staring out at the twinkling cityscape below.

Damien poured himself a whiskey, his hand shaking slightly as he downed it.

"Do you have any idea what we're going to do now?" she asked, her voice small and defeated.

He leaned against the bar, the ice in his drink clinking against the glass. "No," he admitted.

The silence in the hotel suite was palpable, the only sound the muffled hum of the city outside. Sarah felt a heavy weight settle in her chest.

They had come all this way, only to be met with rejection and coldness. "What now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Just then Damien's eyes caught on the family portrait he had clicked few days ago at Mr. Wentworth's mansion.

He zoomed the photo and studying it closely. "Who is this?" he asked, pointing to the young girl in the corner of the photo.

She looked so out of place among the stern-faced Wentworth men.

Sarah squinted at the screen, her heart racing. "There was no mention of her in their family register, or anywhere else."

Damien took the phone, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image his voice tight with excitement. "We need to find her."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she studied the image. The girl was young, no more than twenty, with a shy smile and gentle eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets.

"Could she be Mr. Wentworth's daughter?" she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Damien nodded, his gaze still glued to the screen. "It's possible," he murmured.

Sarah felt a spark of hope ignite in her chest. "But why would Mr. Wentworth hide her?" she asked, her mind racing.

Damien took a deep breath, his eyes still on the photo. "It's possible he must have his reasons," he said, his voice thoughtful. "But we need to find out who she is—and fast."

They spent hours digging through old newspaper articles and court records, piecing together a story that had been buried for decades.

The girl in the photo was indeed Mr. Wentworth's daughter, Elena. She had been a bright young girl, full of promise and hope, until the night she was found dead in the mansion's conservatory. The case had been ruled a tragic accident, but whispers of foul play had always lingered.Sarah felt the gravity of their discovery settle like a stone in her stomach.

"There was a scandal—something about her death not being an accident."Damien said. Sarah's eyes widened in shock.

"What happened?" Sarah's eyes winched.

"Elena's death was ruled an accident, but there were suspicions of foul play. The case was never fully closed," he said, his voice tight.

Sarah's heart pounded in her chest. "Do you think...?" she trailed off, unable to voice the dark thought that had entered her mind.

Damien nodded, his gaze never leaving the photo. "It's possible," he said, his voice tight with tension. "We need to find out more about Elena—about what really happened to her."

The implications of their discovery sent a shiver down Sarah's spine. The mansion, once a symbol of opulence and power, now loomed like a castle with a dark secret. "What do we do?" she whispered.

Damien set the phone aside, his mind already racing with possibilities. "We need to get back to the mansion," he said, his voice firm. "We'll start there, look for any clues that might lead us to her."

Sarah nodded, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what if she's..."

Damien's expression was unreadable. "Then we'll deal with that when we come to it," he said, his voice firm. "But for now, we have to find about her."