The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 230

“He seems to have twisted his ankle. Take him to the hospital and have it checked out.”

Today was the Fletcher family’s funeral. Keegan’s presence was only to be expected.

After thanking her once more, Keegan turned and carried the boy away.

A fine drizzle continued to fall, cold winds sweeping through the air outside. Once they’d left, Danielle instinctively rubbed her arms, feeling the chill seep in.

Just then, something warm and heavy settled across her shoulders—a black jacket. Its lingering heat seeped slowly through the fabric, driving away the cold that clung to her skin.

Danielle shivered, just barely, then turned to meet the cool, emotionless gaze of the man behind her.

His face betrayed nothing. He simply looked at her and said, “We should head inside.”

When Danielle realized it was Alexander, her expression turned cold. She slipped off the jacket and tossed it back to him. “I don’t need it.”

He caught the jacket, his dark eyes lingering on her face for a few moments in silence.

Finally, he said, “Let’s go in.”

The mourners who’d come to pay their respects to the Fletchers were not few in number. Most had come out of deference to the Davidson family.

There were several tables set up for the meal. As hosts, the Fletchers and their extended relatives sat at the main table. The Davidsons were seated at a table just beside them.

“Millie, come sit over here,” Bianca called, motioning for her to take the seat next to Alexander.

The old matriarch didn’t object; with the two families so close, it hardly mattered which table anyone chose.

After several rounds of drinks, Alexander was visibly less steady. He grabbed his coat, quietly slipped past the guests, and headed downstairs for some air.

Danielle set down her fork, signaling she was finished. “You all go ahead and enjoy,” she said, and excused herself.

Attending the meal had fulfilled her obligations. The Fletcher estate sat halfway up the hillside, and at this late hour, it was impossible to hail a cab.

She had no interest in mingling further and decided to retreat to the car for a little peace and quiet. Gian had just called about a meeting with a client the next day, and she wanted to review some test data anyway.

Nash was nearby; the car door was unlocked. Danielle had just pulled it open when, suddenly, a pair of strong arms pulled her into a tight embrace.

The man reeked of alcohol. Even outside, with the estate bustling and mourners’ voices and funeral music echoing through the night, Alexander’s head throbbed with pain.

He rested his chin on Danielle’s shoulder, voice low and hoarse. “I feel awful…”