The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 708

Danielle had no idea how she made it home.

Alexander offered her a ride, and she didn’t refuse. Once she went upstairs, she didn’t give him a chance to speak—she simply closed the door behind her, shutting him out.

Her mind was a tangled mess.

As soon as she entered the apartment, Danielle collapsed onto the sofa, curling up in a tight ball. Memories of her grandmother filled her thoughts.

Her passing had been so sudden. Danielle wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face between them. Silent tears shook her shoulders.

Her grandmother was gone now, not long after her nana had passed away. The two women who had brought laughter and warmth to her childhood had both vanished from her life.

She had no idea how long she sat there in the dark, crying on the sofa. She hadn’t even turned on the lights. She hadn’t moved since coming back from the hospital; dust from her shoes still clung to the hem of her pants.

Her mind felt like a knotted web, tugged in every direction—flashing back to the red light above the ER, to Alexander’s words: “Nathan was in her room.”

Nathan’s earnest eyes when he defended her… The way he’d looked out for her when they were children.

Everything was so jumbled, her temples throbbed painfully.

“Mom?”

A timid voice behind her yanked Danielle back to reality. She turned and saw Niki standing at the bedroom doorway, clutching her pillow, rubbing sleepy eyes in her teddy bear pajamas.

“Why are you up, sweetheart?” Danielle softened her voice, getting up to gently stroke her daughter’s silky hair.

Niki was her soft spot—her only anchor in the storm.

Niki shook her head, her small hand clutching Danielle’s sleeve. “Mom, you’re not sleeping.”

She tilted her face up, big dark eyes shining in the dimness. “Are you sad, Mom?”

Danielle knelt down and pulled her close, resting her chin on Niki’s fuzzy head. “No, honey.”

Startled, Niki jerked, and the spatula slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor.

She turned around, panic all over her face. “Mom, I was trying to make you breakfast—”

Before she could finish, the stool wobbled beneath her. She lurched forward, falling toward the stove.

A small pan sat on the burner, the oil inside just beginning to smoke. As Niki tumbled against it, the scorching oil spilled over, splashing directly onto her tiny forearm.

“Ah—!”

Her cry was sharp and piercing, stabbing straight through Danielle’s heart.

Danielle watched in horror as angry red welts rose on her daughter’s pale skin, tiny blisters already forming. Her mind went blank, blood rushing to her head with a roar.

“Niki!” She lunged forward, scooping her daughter into her arms. Her hands trembled as she reached for the burn, then drew back, terrified of hurting her, fingers curling into tight fists—her nails digging deep into her palms.