The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 537

As soon as the judge made the announcement, the entire auditorium erupted in a wave of shocked voices. Some people exchanged uneasy glances, others instinctively turned to look at Alexander.

After all, Millie had always presented herself as Mrs. Davidson, so what would his reaction be now?

Liam found himself glancing at Alexander as well. But Alexander’s expression was calm, distant—he seemed utterly unfazed by the revelation. He merely furrowed his brow, a subtle gesture, but his composure remained unbroken.

The rest of the crowd, however, was far from composed. It was becoming clear that the one who had been overstepping all along was Millie, not Alexander. He himself had never made any such public claim.

If Millie truly was to become the next Mrs. Davidson, would her supposed husband really just sit back and watch, this indifferent?

Millie’s face drained of all color, her lips turning pale as she bit down hard, her hands trembling uncontrollably at her sides. She stared at the judge in disbelief. “What?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Had she heard that right? Disqualified? On what grounds? Why?

When she tried to speak again, her voice shook so badly she could hardly get the words out.

The judge raised a thick stack of documents. “This competition is founded on fairness and integrity. Anyone found guilty of plagiarism is immediately disqualified.”

Millie was shaking all over. She remembered Danielle’s lawsuit from before. But Alexander had promised to deal with it. Wasn’t there supposed to be a scapegoat? She shot a desperate look at Alexander.

He remained seated, dignified and composed. He met her gaze with calm eyes, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. That smile felt like a needle pricking her heart—sharp, unexpected, painful. Something inside her was stretched to its breaking point, about to snap without warning.

She felt disoriented, uncertain if Alexander had truly taken care of everything.

“No way,” Millie whispered, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her fists clenched tight. “Someone must be framing me. I want to appeal!”

“There’s no need,” Chairman White spoke up, stepping forward at that moment.

Millie froze and turned to look at him, startled.

Chairman White’s demeanor was cold and stern. “I warned you in private not to embarrass yourself on such a public stage.”

Just yesterday, Danielle had handed him a dossier—evidence, and a chain of proof more thorough than anything the court had assembled. It detailed every step of Millie’s plagiarism.

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