The Forced Marriage: The Journey Begins

Chapter Forty

As they stepped into the mansion's grand foyer, the warmth of Damien's hand was the only thing that kept the cold reality at bay. Jules looked up from her paperwork, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of her bruised and shaking granddaughter-in-law."What happened?" she asked, her voice sharp with worry.

Damien's hand tightened around hers. "Some... trouble in the alley," he said, his jaw clenched.

Jules's eyes grew wide with horror as she took in the bruises on Sarah's face, the tremble in her step. "Who did this?" she demanded, her voice shaking with rage.

Damien's jaw was set, his eyes cold as he recounted the events in the alley. "Some thugs," he said, his voice tight. "They didn't get far."

Jules's face went pale, and she reached out to cup Sarah's cheek, her hand shaking with fury. "Oh, my dear," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears. "You're safe now."

Damien's gaze never left Sarah's as he spoke to Jules. "I'll take her upstairs, get her cleaned up," he said firmly, his eyes promising that he would handle the situation.

Jules nodded, her concern etched into her furrowed brow. "Thank you, Damien," she said, her voice trembling. "Thank you for looking after her."

Damien's eyes never left Sarah's as he led her up the grand staircase, each step echoing through the hollow hallway. The warmth of his hand was the only thing grounding her as the horror of the evening replayed in her mind.

When they reached the safety of her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her trembling legs giving way. Damien hovered, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness she had never seen before. "I'll go get some ice," he said, his jaw tight with restrained anger.

Sarah nodded, the adrenaline draining from her body leaving her feeling empty and cold. She watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The quiet was suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening.

When Damien returned with an icepack and a first-aid kit, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space. He approached her with careful steps, his eyes scanning her bruised face with a mix of anger and pain. "Let me help you," he said, his voice gentle as he offered the icepack.

Sarah took it with trembling hands, pressing it to the tender skin beneath her eye. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them was electric, the air in the room thick with unspoken emotions.

Damien took a seat beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "You should lie down," he suggested, his voice gentle.

Jules's footsteps could be heard retreating down the hallway as she went to make the call to Wilson. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the faint buzz of the lights above them.

Damien remained in the lobby, his mind racing with the information he had just shared with Sarah's grandmother-in-law. He had hoped it would bring some clarity to the situation, but he could see the turmoil in Jules's eyes. The weight of her guilt was palpable, a burden she had carried for too long.

He leaned back in the chair, his eyes on the grand staircase that led to the private quarters of the mansion. The opulence of the place was suffocating, a stark contrast to the coldness of the truth that now lay between them. Sarah had suffered in silence for too long, and it was time for someone to bear witness to her pain.

"Mrs. Harris," he began, his voice low and measured. "I need you to understand something." He paused, his gaze steady. "Your grandson has been less than honorable to Sarah."

Jules's eyes snapped up to meet his, a storm of emotions crossing her face. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice sharp.

Damien took a deep breath, his grip on the evidence tightening. "The truth," he said, his voice firm. "About the man you call your grandson, and the woman who has suffered in his shadow."

Jules's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. She took the papers from him, her eyes scanning the damning evidence. The photos of Wilson with Elise, the emails detailing his cruelty towards Sarah, the medical records that spoke of her injuries—each page a testament to the hell she had endured.

"How could I not see?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I've been so blind. I was so blind in love of my grandson, I never looked at Sarah's wellbeing. I forced her in this marriage for the sake of mother's life that naive girl fully believed me. I am so selfish woman, I could not see the pain of another woman. How could I think by sacrificing her life, I could flourish my grandson's life and make him a better person. I was so wrong, so so wrong."

Her eyes searched the room for something to cling to, but all she found were the cold, unfeeling walls of the mansion. She looked down at the documents in her hand, her knuckles white with the effort of holding them. "Can you help me draft the divorce paper, Damien?", her voice shaking.

Damien nodded gravely. "Of course, Mrs. Harris," he said. "We'll start first thing tomorrow."