The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 271

Danielle inhaled sharply, and at once, her senses were filled with his cool, clean scent.

She jerked back almost instantly, bumping hard into the edge of the table behind her. A wince crossed her face as pain shot through her side.

The loud thud made her glance instinctively toward the bed, where Niki slept soundly. Thankfully, the little girl was a heavy sleeper and didn’t stir.

“When did you come in?” Danielle asked, her voice low.

Alexander took a step back, putting some space between them.

“Such a strong reaction?” he said, his gaze dark and searching. “I just wanted to help you close the window.”

His eyes lingered on her, intense enough to make her feel as if he could see straight through her soul.

“You’re afraid of me.” His tone was almost matter-of-fact. “Or… are you afraid I might hurt Niki?”

A faint, ambiguous smile played at the corners of Alexander’s mouth. It wasn’t really a smile—more a fleeting crease in his expression, something almost worth deciphering.

Yes, she was afraid. Afraid of the past repeating itself, afraid of making the same mistakes.

Alexander’s insight had always been unsettling; he was too perceptive, too skilled at catching even the smallest flicker of emotion. After years of marriage, Danielle knew all too well how impossible it was to outmaneuver him, whether as a partner or as an adversary.

Bracing herself against the table, Danielle frowned slightly. “How did Niki get hurt?”

She had no intention of answering his questions or engaging in a pointless back-and-forth.

“Gym class,” he replied, his voice cool. “She tripped during a run. The teacher called you, but you didn’t answer, so they reached me. I took her to the hospital—she’s fine.”

“Alright.”

Alexander continued, “Let her sleep here tonight. She had a rough day and just managed to fall asleep.”

Danielle’s brow tightened ever so slightly, betraying her concern.

“You sleep with Niki,” Alexander said, glancing at his watch. “I have to go out for a while tonight.”

Niki rubbed her eyes, still groggy. “Mom… when did you get here?” she mumbled, looking up at Danielle.

“Last night,” Danielle replied gently. “How did you get hurt?”

Niki explained, “I fell during gym class while we were running on the field. I twisted my ankle. Dad picked me up and took me to the hospital. When we got home, he put some medicine on it, and it doesn’t hurt so much now.”

Danielle could see the excitement in her daughter’s eyes—she’d always been thrilled to be around her father.

A dull ache throbbed in Danielle’s temples. It was almost instinct, this closeness between father and daughter—something written in their blood.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Niki asked, her voice small.

Danielle shook her head. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

—

After dropping Niki off at preschool, Danielle headed straight to work at Ninesky. Lately, she’d had to stay on top of every step in the production process.