The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 195

"You've always got a clever answer for everything. Has that ever actually made your life easier?"

Mr. Hawthorne's tone was light as he glanced over the menu, picking a few dishes without fuss. He'd never been picky about food.

Then he turned to Danielle. "How's the current project coming along? We're supposed to hit a milestone by mid-month. Feeling the pressure?"

"Not really," Danielle replied calmly. "You plant seeds in spring, and by the fall, you'll know what you've grown."

Truth was, she was completely confident in her work on these projects.

They spent a while discussing technical details, trading insights back and forth. At one point, Mr. Hawthorne mentioned a particular bottleneck that had been stalling progress.

"Any chance either of you can break through it?" he asked, glancing between Danielle and Gian.

"I'll give it a shot," Danielle offered.

He grunted, eyeing her skeptically. "You've got twenty minutes."

It didn't even take Danielle that long to outline a solid solution.

Mr. Hawthorne's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Well, you haven't lost your touch."

Danielle nodded. "There's no room for half-measures in this field anymore. If you're not all in, you won't last."

She took a breath, then looked at him seriously. "Professor Hawthorne, since our field is moving so quickly, I'd like to pursue a higher degree—go on to grad school. Do you think I still have a shot?"

She bit her lip, holding back nerves. Lately, she'd racked up a string of impressive achievements. By rights, her skills were already at a level above most graduate—or even doctoral—students. But here, credentials mattered. Academic achievement wasn't something you could fake or rush.

Mr. Hawthorne listened, but didn't answer right away. He simply fixed her with a steady, unreadable smile.

Danielle understood. He wouldn't forgive her so easily.

She'd entered that last competition to prove herself. She'd thrown herself into these projects to prove herself. Every result she brought to the table was meant to show him her determination—this wasn't a whim. She wanted to keep moving forward in this field. She needed further study, and a mentor she could trust.

Gian jumped in to help. "She's worked hard, and you can see her ability for yourself, Professor. Let her keep going—she'll make you proud, and do our country proud too."

A low, chilly voice sounded behind her.

Danielle turned to find Alexander standing there. "What do you want?"

Her tone was cool and unruffled, not a hint of guilt at being caught dodging his calls.

He held out his car keys. "Drive me home."

She blinked. "That's not really convenient for me."

Alexander's expression was unreadable. "My grandmother's visiting the house today. If she finds out you're not living there, what do you suppose she'll think?"

Danielle frowned, the terms of their contract running through her mind. She'd signed it, knowing she'd be giving up some of her freedom—playing along with his act for the sake of appearances.

She hesitated, clutching her phone a little tighter as she stared at the keys in his palm.

Finally, she said quietly, "Just tell your grandmother I'm staying with my mom for a few days, and I've brought Niki with me."