The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 627

Danielle frowned. “Other than work, I have no intention of seeing him. I don’t want to run into him, and if we do cross paths in our daily lives, it’s certainly not by choice.”

Every meeting between them was pure coincidence.

Coincidence, as if the whole of Northridge City was nothing more than a small town.

But their world was limited to the same professional circles, the same social gatherings—inevitable, really, given they worked in the same field.

It was something entirely out of her control.

And she saw no reason to accept such an unreasonable demand.

Her voice was even, her posture unwavering. “If you truly don’t want him running into me, there’s only one way: he’ll have to leave Northridge City.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed.

After years of marriage, all that remained between them was this bleak indifference.

The woman before her looked as if she felt absolutely nothing for Alexander. Not even the idle curiosity a stranger might have.

It had all come down to either a deep, festering hatred or a desperate need to sever every last tie.

Rebecca had never truly understood what happened between them. All she’d ever heard were rumors and whispers. She hadn’t witnessed any of it herself. She wouldn’t judge—she could only go by what she saw in Danielle’s demeanor today.

And it was clear: whatever love might have been there was long gone.

Rebecca nodded. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me.” Danielle looked her in the eye. “If you could, I’d appreciate it if you kept him out of my sight as much as possible.”

With that, she turned and reached for her car door.

Only to find herself face-to-face with a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.

Alexander.

Danielle had no idea why he was there.

But with Rebecca around, his presence wasn’t exactly a surprise.

She ignored him, got into her car, and drove away without a backward glance.

Rebecca stood where she was, watching the car disappear.

Then she turned her gaze to Alexander.

“All this effort you’re making? It’s pointless. No one cares what you do. In her eyes, all she feels for you is hatred.”

Alexander kept his eyes fixed on the direction Danielle had driven away.

He didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just stared after her.

Hatred?

Yes.

A deep, implacable hatred.

It had started at Raffy’s birthday party.

“I’m just trying to give her what she wants,” Alexander said quietly. “I’ve given her everything she’s ever wished for. Why isn’t she happy?”

Rebecca frowned at him.

She took a slow, steadying breath. “Alexander, we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Let me ask you—what wishes have you actually granted her? What have you really done for her?”

“If you were truly her Santa Claus, she’d be glad to see you—she’d be all smiles. But when she looks at you, all I see is disappointment, a desperate need to keep her distance. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Alexander’s voice was flat, emotionless. “Is that so?”

Rebecca’s frown deepened. “Or is it that you’ve only ever imagined what she wanted, without ever asking her—without ever letting her say it herself?”

Rebecca’s words cut straight to the heart.

Alexander’s lips pressed into a tight, hard line.

“She should resent me. That would be best.”

Rebecca stared at him.

She didn’t look away. “We need honesty between us, Alexander. Tell me what you’re really thinking, or I can’t help you anymore. Do you want to keep going?”

He leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifting far away, a weary tension settling across his features.

His brow furrowed, and for a moment he seemed lost in thought. Then he swallowed hard, as if making a decision. “Yes.”

Rebecca could see it clearly—he was ready, willing to cooperate.

But perhaps only because there was still something left unfinished.

Until everything was resolved, he refused to give up.

Once it was done, nothing else would matter—not even his own life.

That was dangerous.

He’d always had a reckless streak, always willing to risk everything.

Rebecca’s worry ran deep.

He was cunning, always playing his cards close.

“Alright.” Rebecca’s tone was sharp. “Let me ask you—do you love her? Your ex-wife?”

Before he could answer, she fixed him with a cold, steely glare. “Alexander, if you try to play games with me again, if you give me anything less than the truth, I’m done. I won’t help you anymore.”