The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 134

Alexander arrived late, his presence as imposing as ever. Dressed head-to-toe in black, he exuded a quiet authority, the kind that made people instinctively lower their voices in his presence. Cradled in his arm was a bouquet of white lilies.

He was a man accustomed to power, rarely seen with a smile, his demeanor always reserved, almost severe. When Orson caught sight of him entering the room, he immediately fell silent, though his expression barely shifted. It wasn't a surprise that Alexander had come—Orson had expected it. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, flickered briefly to Danielle, and he let out a soft, mocking laugh.

With deliberate calm, Orson turned to Danielle. "I'm not too late, am I?"

His tone was gentler than usual, as if he and Danielle were still the loving couple everyone once believed them to be. Only in front of his grandmother did he ever put on such a show.

Danielle stared at him in disbelief, caught off guard by his appearance. She'd just called him moments ago, and he'd been with Millie then.

Niki's face lit up the moment she saw her father. She hurried over, calling out, "Daddy!"

Alexander reached down to ruffle her hair. "Good girl," he said softly.

Niki understood, even at her age, that her father only acknowledged her openly at her grandmother's house. Here, when she called out, he would always answer. Out in the world, though, he was just "Uncle Alexander."

Danielle watched her daughter try to get close to her father and drew a long, shaky breath. The ache in her chest was almost physical. Niki craved her father's affection—how could she not? But Alexander's coldness was constant, and Danielle found it harder and harder to watch. It felt as though a wad of cotton was stuck in her chest, suffocating her with helplessness.

But there was nothing she could do to change it.

Helen, the family matriarch, strode over and scolded Alexander. "What kept you? You're late—the ceremony is about to start!"

She gave him a theatrical smack on the arm. "Go apologize to your uncle and your mother."

Alexander's gaze swept coolly past Danielle before he stepped forward to light three incense sticks for his grandmother, laying the lilies at her memorial. Only after paying his respects did he turn to greet his uncle and Vivian, ever unhurried and impeccably polite.

For all his reputation, Alexander never neglected these rituals. The departed deserved nothing less.

Danielle's voice was cold as she addressed Orson, her posture straight, eyes frosty. "You can go now."

Orson gave a short, derisive laugh, clearly bored. He hadn't intended to stay long anyway—just enough to make an appearance. He slipped away quietly.

She could barely restrain herself.

Danielle tore her gaze away, her voice even. "Today's the third anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I don't want to make a scene—not today. Besides, things between us have been like this for a long time. There's nothing left to force."

"I'll tell my uncle and grandmother about the divorce after all this is over."

Kirsten clenched her fists, jaw tight with frustration.

Alexander finished his call and strode back toward them.

He spoke quietly, his voice measured and restrained. "I have something to take care of later, so I won't be going to the cemetery. I've arranged for a car to take you all."

Alexander was nothing if not composed—always calm, always in control, leaving nothing to chance.