The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 645

What stood between them was nothing but an illusion—a mirage, a dream, destined to vanish.

Emptiness. That was all.

Alexander’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked up at her, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “From beginning to end, your feelings have been nothing but a means to an end. How exactly am I supposed to respond to that?”

“You claim you don’t love me, yet you’re determined to marry me. You put on such a convincing act of affection—what do you expect me to do with that?”

Danielle’s gaze turned cold and puzzled as she met his eyes.

“And where, exactly, are you getting these ideas from?”

Alexander’s expression darkened, a mocking curve appearing at the corner of his lips.

He stood, taking deliberate steps toward Danielle, a force of nature radiating from him—imposing and relentless.

Each step he took made the air in the room feel heavier.

Danielle instinctively retreated, step by step, until her back met the wall—trapped, nowhere left to go.

His stare was intense, a storm of emotion brewing just beneath the surface. He reached out, gripping her chin, his fingers tightening inch by inch.

Danielle grabbed his wrist, trying desperately to pry it away.

She could feel the heat of his skin, the unyielding strength in his bones—like iron, immovable.

Her brows knit in pain as she was forced to tilt her head up and meet those cool, indifferent eyes. Gritting her teeth, she demanded, “What are you trying to do?”

“Bravo.” Alexander’s voice was flat, utterly devoid of emotion. “I almost want to give you a round of applause.”

With a sudden surge of strength, he pressed Danielle up against the mirror. “Take a good look at yourself. That innocent expression of yours—how convincing do you think it is?”

Danielle could feel the danger radiating off him.

For the first time, she sensed the sharp edge beneath his calm—the recklessness that bordered on madness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Alexander’s hand slid down to her waist, spinning her to face him fully.

Now she was perched in front of the vanity, his presence closing in around her, the room shrinking until it was just the two of them.

“Look at me.” His eyes were icy, his words cutting. “Who am I?”

“Look at me. Do I remind you of him?”

Their faces were so close now, their breathing and heartbeats the only sounds in the room.

She could feel the familiarity of his presence, and yet something about him felt utterly foreign.

Her mind raced, searching through old memories, trying to make sense of his words.

“Remind me of who?” Danielle’s brows drew together. “My brother?”

“Don’t I?”

Yes.

He did.

But they were nothing alike—two entirely different men.

Alexander searched her face. “I might resemble him, but could I ever truly be him?”

Danielle could barely breathe. “You think I see you as a substitute for my brother?”