The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 125

Danielle almost laughed out loud, as if she'd just heard the most absurd joke in the world. How did he even have the nerve to say that to her?

What, was she supposed to just automatically take care of Raffy? Was he suddenly her responsibility now?

So Alexander and his sweetheart could enjoy their candlelit romance while she was expected to play nanny, just because she happened to be in the picture?

Not a chance.

With a sharp laugh, Danielle shot back, "Alexander, what makes you think I should treat Raffy like my own son?"

"I told you before—I don't want him!"

She didn't wait for his response. Her words still hanging in the air, Danielle turned on her heel and walked away, her expression cold and unmoved.

Behind her, Raffy sniffled and watched her retreating figure.

Yep, his stepmom really was wicked.

—

The next morning.

Danielle packed up her things at the hotel, planning to take Niki to her math class that day.

Just as she wheeled her suitcase out of the room, she saw Millie stepping out of her own room—with Raffy by her side.

Their eyes met, and both women froze for a split second.

Hadn't they been in the same room last night?

It didn't take Danielle long to figure it out.

Clearly, they'd gone out of their way to keep things hush-hush, each leaving from their own room this morning, still putting on the act of being nothing more than "good friends."

Millie offered her a smile. "Morning. We barely got a chance to chat yesterday."

"How's work treating you at Ninesky?"

The question came out of nowhere.

Danielle didn't believe for a second that their relationship was close enough for Millie to actually care about her job.

It reeked of false concern—a fox wishing the hen a happy New Year.

She had no intention of playing along.

But Millie went right on, as if she hadn't noticed Danielle's indifference. "I told Alex I want to be his equal one day, and he suggested you could be my assistant."

The first workday after the retreat was a flurry of activity. The new system had gone live, and a few new partners were already locked in.

Mr. Hawthorne called to check in.

"So this is the level we're at?" he asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

He could be so dismissive—but in any other company, what they'd achieved would be considered top secret.

Danielle pressed her lips together, steadying herself. "I'll keep working hard."

After she hung up, Gian looked over to reassure her. "He's got a tough mouth, but a soft heart."

Danielle nodded. She knew exactly what Mr. Hawthorne expected from her.

This industry was like swimming upstream—stop moving, and you're swept away.

She'd lost years already; this was hardly her peak.

Gian shook his head with a laugh. "The next generation's coming up fast. Us old-timers better watch out, or we'll be left in the dust."

Danielle couldn't help but smile. "Cut it out."

Just as the workday was winding down, Danielle's phone rang—