The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 608

Unbeknownst to Danielle, someone was silently approaching her from around the corner.

A sudden chill crawled down her spine. Instinctively, she whipped around—only to lock eyes with a pair of cold, venomous eyes, glinting with malice, as icy and slick as a serpent.

A knife flashed in the woman’s hand, slashing toward Danielle with murderous intent. “You’re the one who deserves to die the most!”

Millie.

Danielle’s heart clenched. She tried to dodge, but it was too late.

There was a sickening sound—a blade sinking into flesh.

But in that split second, someone yanked her into a tight embrace, shielding her from the strike.

Danielle’s mind went blank, a high, ringing panic drowning out her thoughts. Cradled in the man’s arms, she looked up, her vision clearing just enough to see his face.

Her lips trembled. “Nathan…”

Blood was running down his side, soaking through his shirt, dripping onto the floor in steady, red drops. His lips were ghostly pale.

“I’m okay…” he murmured, voice weak.

He was supposed to be in the garage, getting the car. Why was he here?

“Nathan?” Millie spat, gripping the knife so tightly her knuckles whitened. Fury twisted her features. “You’re taking her side too?”

“This is between me and her! Get out of the way!”

Why was everyone always taking Danielle’s side?

“Someone’s been stabbed! Call the police!” shouted a security guard at the door, rushing forward to break up the chaos.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me!” Millie shrieked, wild-eyed, thrashing against the guard’s iron grip as he wrestled the knife from her hand.

Her voice was ragged with rage. “She’s the one who should die! She stole everything from me—everything that was mine!”

“You took my man, you took my child, you took my place in this world!”

“Even what my son was supposed to have—your daughter took that too!”

She was hysterical, eyes bloodshot, brandishing the knife and glaring hatefully at Danielle.

All this time, she’d seen Danielle as her greatest rival. But Danielle had never truly regarded her as a threat—never even spared her a real glance. It felt like punching into empty air, nothing to hit.

Danielle turned to the security guard, her tone flat. “Take her to the police.”

—

Outside, the sky was nearly black, rain drifting in silver threads.

A Land Rover rolled to a stop at the curb. The door flew open and Alexander stepped out, crossing the rain-slick sidewalk in long, purposeful strides, ducking under the overhang to survey the chaos before him.

His face was thunderous, his presence colder and more intimidating than usual.

He gazed down at Nathan, now sprawled on the ground.

Danielle was sitting on the floor, next to a dark pool of blood—whose blood, it was impossible to tell. Nathan’s head rested in her lap, his face ashen.

Sweat—or maybe it was rainwater—trickled down his brow.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Danielle. “Are you hurt?”