The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 695

Nash took a deep breath. “There’s no one with more authority than Dr. Rebecca. If she can’t find a solution, no one else can.”

“Mr. Davidson, I’ll go check—lunch has arrived downstairs.”

With that, Nash quickly excused himself and hurried from the room.

The food had indeed been delivered to the lobby below.

When it came to meals, Nash never cut corners.

Balancing the tray in his hands, he made his way back upstairs, only to find Alexander still hunched over his desk, surrounded by paperwork.

“Take a break. You need to eat.” Nash placed the food on the coffee table.

Alexander glanced over. “Did you put any medication in it?”

“No.”

Alexander’s dark eyes fixed on him in silence.

“I swear, there’s nothing in there. I don’t even have any medication with me—Dr. Rebecca hasn’t arrived yet…”

At last, Alexander set down his fountain pen.

He got up and moved to the table, sitting down to eat.

But looking at the spread before him, he felt a wave of nausea instead of hunger.

Nash noticed him barely touching his fork.

“It’s all your favorites. You’re really not hungry?”

Alexander set the fork down, a strange, metallic taste rising in his throat.

Suddenly, he was seized by a violent fit of coughing.

He snatched a few tissues, pressing them to his mouth.

When he glanced down, the paper was streaked bright red.

His lips had gone pale, tinged now with blood.

Nash’s face drained of color at the sight. He rushed over, panic in his voice. “Are you alright? You were fine just a moment ago—why are you coughing up blood? Your last checkup showed nothing wrong!”

Alexander wiped the corner of his mouth, his expression darkening as he saw the blood on his fingers.

“My health is fine. Why are you drugging me?” His voice was hoarse, accusatory.

Nash protested, “That’s not drugging—it’s just prescribed medicine, for your own good. Don’t make it sound so sinister, as if I’d harm you.”

The last thing Alexander heard before losing consciousness was Nash shouting his name.

He tried to force his eyes open, but his eyelids felt impossibly heavy, dragging him down no matter how hard he fought.

Will I wake at 1:30?

Maybe.

Rebecca arrived just in time to witness the scene. Her face paled as she strode swiftly to his side.

She ordered the staff to carry him to the lounge and checked his pulse.

“How is he?” Nash’s voice trembled with worry. “He was fine just this morning.”

Rebecca’s expression was icy. “He’s not dying.”

She straightened up, her tone sharp. “I told you to keep an eye on him. How exactly were you doing that? He’s overworked.”

Nash spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t control him…”

Half an hour passed.

The man murmured restlessly in his sleep, “Danielle…”