The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 590

His voice was low and rough, a gravelly sound that matched the somber look in his eyes.

Alexander propped his head up on one hand. “If you insist on forcing my hand, then I’ll be here every single day. But if you don’t want me turning up on your doorstep daily, just let me stay tonight.”

Danielle didn’t answer.

She knew Alexander had no reason to lie to her.

In the end, she said nothing at all—just turned and walked straight into the bedroom, leaving him behind.

If he wanted to stay out there, then so be it. Let him.

Inside, Danielle went about her routine in the bathroom, washing up before climbing into bed. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Her thoughts tumbled restlessly from one recent event to the next. So many things just didn’t add up. Alexander could answer some of her questions—if only he wanted to. But he never seemed willing to have an honest conversation.

It was as if there was a wall between them, and every time she tried to talk, he’d dodge or hide behind it. He was deliberately keeping things from her, and if he didn’t want to talk, there was no prying the truth out of him.

If she wanted answers, she’d have to dig for them herself. Especially when it came to matters concerning her daughter’s safety.

Her daughter had been in danger more than once lately, and Alexander had been hovering around her like a man possessed.

With everything happening one after another, Danielle felt constantly on edge.

She tossed and turned until well into the night, unable to sleep even as the clock crept past three.

Eventually, she got up, slipped quietly out of the bedroom, and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.

Only a single lamp cast a dim glow across the living room. As Danielle entered, she saw Alexander fast asleep on the couch.

He really hadn’t left.

She paused in surprise, just standing there for a few seconds, unsure what to make of it.

She’d half thought he was bluffing, but apparently not.

Danielle pressed her lips together and tiptoed past him to the fridge.

But just as she was about to walk by, a hand clamped around her wrist.

Before she could react, he pulled her down into his arms.

His presence surrounded her, close and inescapable.

Danielle scowled. “Alexander, let go.”

When did this become his new habit?

He answered in a lazy, throaty murmur, “Still not asleep?”

His voice was warm and rough, as if she’d just woken him.

Danielle gritted her teeth and tried again. “Alexander, let go.”

“So harsh.” Alexander leaned down, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath warm against her skin. “It’s been so long since I’ve held you. Can’t I just… hold you for a bit?”

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?” he went on, his voice dropping. “If you throw me out, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Danielle froze.

“What are you talking about?”

She genuinely didn’t understand.

His eyes were impossibly deep, hiding emotions she couldn’t read.

But her own eyes were calm and clear.

“Do you see me now? Do you know who I am? Or did you mistake me for someone else again?”

Alexander looked at her, his voice low and magnetic. He gave a slow, wry smile, the corners of his eyes creasing ever so slightly.

“When have I ever mistaken you for someone else?”

He met her gaze steadily. “I never have.”

“Danielle.” He said her name—just those two syllables, but they landed heavy and cold in her heart.

Now she truly didn’t know what to make of this man.

He studied her silent, steely face, then ran his thumb lightly across her lips. “Can’t I just have a kiss?”

Smack.

Another slap.

This time, there was no mistaking the anger, the insult, the utter lack of respect.

They were divorced. What did he take her for?

“Let me go.”

He just looked at her, eyes darker than ever. “Did slapping me help? How many slaps gets me a kiss?”