The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1123

For countless nights, he'd had nightmares about his daughter's death. The pain felt as real as if it had actually happened. Alexander's voice grew hoarse. He couldn't forgive himself. Danielle watched him, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but she didn't know where to begin.

"It's getting late," Alexander said. "Should I take you home?" Danielle shook her head. "I drove myself." "Then drive safe." Danielle looked at Alexander, her emotions a tangled mess. It felt like they had talked everything through, yet the distance between them remained, impossible to cross. It was as if they were separated by an ocean. Her heart clenched painfully. Was this really it for them?

After Danielle left the villa, Alexander stood frozen in place. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, each breath a dull ache. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him, but his arms began to tremble uncontrollably, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely straighten them. Cold sweat slicked his jawline as a familiar, sharp pain shot through his head, like a thousand needles pricking him at once, blurring his vision.

He staggered toward his desk, reaching for his medication. But as his fingertips brushed the cool glass of the bottle, he remembered Rebecca's warning: "If you self-medicate again, not even a miracle can save you!" Alexander's hand froze, his knuckles turning white. He closed his eyes and, with a trembling hand, pulled out his phone to call Rebecca.

Rebecca was at her desk, writing a paper. She firmly believed that a woman's career should always come first. To make a name for herself in her field, academic publications were essential. Not far behind her, Sammie stood as straight as a sentinel, his gaze fixed on her, never leaving her side.

Rebecca's father had assigned Sammie as her bodyguard not only for his exceptional skills but also for his steady temperament, meticulous nature, and an almost obsessive loyalty to her. For years, wherever Rebecca went, he was always within arm's reach. If she didn't sleep, he would stand guard all night without exception.

The sudden ring of her phone shattered Rebecca's concentration. She frowned, her expression darkening as she saw the caller's name. "I know. I'll be there in twenty minutes." After hanging up, Rebecca rubbed her throbbing temples and looked at Sammie. "Go to the Davidson villa. Alexander isn't doing well." Sammie pressed his lips together, his tone flat. "I will not leave your side, Miss."

Rebecca looked up at him, a flicker of exasperation in her eyes. "Why must you be so rigid? What danger could there possibly be in just a little while?" This was her private clinic, with top-notch security. She was just staying indoors; there was no need for him to follow her every second. But Sammie remained rooted to the spot, an untiring statue with his eyes locked on her, showing no sign of budging.

Her train of thought completely derailed, Rebecca felt a surge of irritation. She shot up from her chair, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door. "Fine, I'll go myself." Sammie immediately followed, his steps light but always maintaining a precise distance. In the parking garage, Rebecca walked straight to her car, yanked open the driver's door, and slid inside. Sammie stood outside the car, his tone still respectful. "Allow me to drive, Miss."