The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 709

Tears streamed down Niki’s cheeks from the pain, but she bit her lip, refusing to let herself sob out loud. Instead, she sniffled and whispered, “Mommy, it doesn’t hurt…”

“How could it not hurt?” Danielle’s voice was thick with emotion, her whole body trembling.

Her mother had just passed away, and now her daughter was hurt—grief and panic tangled inside her until her heart felt ready to burst.

She squeezed Niki’s little hand a bit tighter.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m taking you to the hospital. The pain will be gone soon, I promise.”

Working as quickly as she could, Danielle grabbed a clean towel, soaked it in cool water, and pressed it gently to Niki’s burn. She threw on the first jacket she could find, scooped her daughter into her arms, and rushed toward the door.

In her panic, she flung the door open—only to nearly collide with a tall shadow just outside.

Alexander stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He looked as upright and imposing as ever, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.

Bruised shadows circled his eyes, and stubble roughened his jaw. Even his usually crisp dress shirt was rumpled and askew—signs of a sleepless night.

The moment Danielle saw him, she froze. Niki kept sobbing in her arms, her warm tears seeping into Danielle’s collarbone.

“What are you doing here?” Danielle’s voice came out dry and brittle.

Alexander’s gaze shifted past her, landing on Niki’s burned arm. His cool eyes darkened, a flash of worry tightening his face.

He straightened up, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I was worried about you. I wanted to be here. Just in case.”

Danielle stared at him, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes, the travel-worn look about him. Realization hit her, sharp and unexpected.

“You stayed out here all night?”

He didn’t answer directly, just pressed his cracked lips together and looked back at her, his eyes searching her face. “Let’s get to the hospital.”

Before Danielle could protest, he reached out and gently took Niki from her arms, as if she were something rare and fragile.

The more brave and considerate her daughter acted, the more Danielle felt she’d let her down.

Watching Niki, her face twisted with pain and regret.

“Mommy,” Niki said, turning to look at her, trying to offer a reassuring smile through her tears, “I’m really okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, I promise.”

She hesitated, her small face crumpling with guilt. “Mommy, did I mess up again? I just wanted to make you breakfast. You didn’t eat last night when you got home…”

Danielle’s heart ached, as if pierced by a hundred tiny needles.

She pulled Niki into her arms, resting her chin on her daughter’s soft hair. At last, she couldn’t hold back her own tears.

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault—I should have taken better care of you.”

She had been so caught up in her own grief that she’d forgotten about the little girl who needed her most.