The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 760

Alexander’s Adam’s apple bobbed; his fingers unconsciously clenched a fistful of his jacket. The emotions swirling in his eyes looked like waves held back to their breaking point. After a few seconds of silence, his voice came, just rough enough to betray the strain.

“Very much. I love you deeply.”

Danielle’s eyes widened, her own fingers curling tight, breath catching in her throat.

She stared into Alexander’s eyes, saw the turmoil that hadn’t settled, and felt a soft ache rising in her chest.

She’d never expected to hear these words from him. Not so plainly. Not so honestly.

When his words faded, he dropped his gaze, avoiding her eyes. His voice grew heavier, as if confessing to her—or perhaps to himself. “But I don’t deserve to love you.”

Danielle looked at him. “So if everything went wrong—if I died, if our daughter died—would you still keep it from me? Would you still go your own way?”

Alexander’s eyes hardened just a shade.

“You keep asking me, but none of that ever happened.”

Danielle’s voice trembled, her heart twisting tighter. “So if you were given another chance, you’d still choose the same?”

He looked at her, gaze dark and unreadable, and fell silent for a long moment.

At last, his reply came low and rough.

“Danielle, I never had a choice.”

Something loosened inside her. She closed her eyes, just for a second, then turned and walked away.

Alexander watched her retreating figure, his eyes clouded with emotions he never let show.

He looked up at Rebecca, voice eerily calm, like they were discussing a stranger’s fate instead of his own. “I never said I wanted to get better.”

Rebecca’s fingers curled tightly. A wave of helplessness washed over her.

She’d known Alexander for ten years—since he’d been the bright, ambitious entrepreneur, back when he still believed in building a future. She’d watched him push himself to the edge, and she’d never managed to pull him back.

“What do you want, Alexander?” Her voice cracked, urgency slipping through. “Last week you downed half a bottle of sleeping pills. If I hadn’t found you when I did, you’d—”

“I never planned to live,” he cut her off, voice flat as if discussing the weather. “I’m only here to make sure their path is clear. Once the surgery is over, once everything’s done, I’ll leave. On my own terms.”

Rebecca’s hands clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms.

She remembered last week in the hospital—Alexander lying in bed, IV still in his arm, video-calling with his lawyer to finalize the terms of Danielle’s trust.