The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 231

He always seemed to lose all sense of boundaries once he got drunk, unable to tell friend from foe in his drunken stupor.

Danielle saw right through him.

She shoved Alexander away with a hard, decisive push.

She hadn’t expected him to sober up in the car; if she’d known he was there, she never would have gotten in.

For a moment, Alexander just stood there, stunned.

Danielle turned and yanked open the car door, ready to get out.

But his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her waist, and in an instant, he hauled her back against his chest.

She was light as a feather to him; pulling her into his arms took no effort at all.

She tried to struggle, but his arms only tightened, inch by inch, until she was pinned firmly against him.

She could feel the heat radiating from his chest and the scent of him enveloped her.

She frowned deeply. “Alexander!”

They were so close their breaths tangled together, the air inside the car thick and feverish.

Suddenly, his cold lips crashed down on hers, silencing her in a rough, desperate kiss.

Danielle’s eyes flew wide open, her mind going completely blank.

Did he have any idea what he was doing?

“Don’t… don’t be sad…” His voice was low and hoarse, as if he was trying to comfort her.

But who was he comforting?

Millie.

Outside, the white wreaths and funeral music, the sound of guests murmuring, all filtered through the car window, as if from another world. The air inside was wild, forbidden.

Danielle thought she might lose her mind.

She fought to break free, but he held her fast.

She bit down hard on his lip, the sharp tang of blood flooding her mouth.

A light rain fell outside. Millie stood there, holding an umbrella.

“Alex, I brought you some hangover soup. Why are you in the car? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You should go upstairs and get some rest—after all that drinking, you must feel awful.”

Alexander rubbed his forehead, saying nothing at first.

He took the cup of hangover soup from her and drank. “Thank you.”

Danielle sat beside him, forcing herself to steady her breathing—as if nothing had happened.

One thing was painfully clear: whenever he’d been drinking, she needed to stay far, far away from him. No, not just when he’d been drinking—she needed to keep her distance from him, always.

She’d assumed, just like Millie, that he’d gone upstairs to rest. Given their relationship, it wouldn’t have surprised her. She never expected to find him here, in the car.

“It’s nothing,” Alexander replied after finishing the soup, his voice rough as gravel. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Millie bent down slightly, noticing Danielle sitting quietly inside.

“Miss Crawford, thank you for coming to my grandfather’s funeral, especially on such short notice. If you need a ride home later, please let me know—I’ll have the driver take you.”