The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 92

Millie froze for a split second.

She turned her head and spotted Danielle standing in the living room.

Watching her so-called "husband" get cozy with another woman right before her eyes, Danielle wasn't even sure what she felt anymore.

All she knew was that her chest felt painfully tight, as if needles were pricking her heart. Her throat seemed stuffed with cotton, and though she wanted to speak, not a sound would come out.

A moment later, Danielle drew a deep breath.

Whatever was going on between them—she told herself—it was none of her business anymore.

Millie met Danielle's gaze but didn't let go of the man's arm. Instead, she smiled with casual ease, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "Oh, Danielle, you're home. Would you mind running a bath? I'll help Alex get cleaned up so he can rest."

For a moment, Danielle wondered if she'd misheard. Was she really being asked to prepare a bath while Millie wiped down her own husband?

Now she understood exactly what it meant to feel entitled just because you're the favorite.

If Millie could shamelessly tend to another woman's husband right in front of her, it meant Alexander had given her permission—had given her everything she needed to feel untouchable.

Danielle couldn't help but wonder how many times this had happened behind her back.

She gave a bitter, mocking laugh. "I'll leave you two alone."

No sooner had Danielle spoken than Millie's phone rang. Frowning at the caller ID, Millie steadied Alexander and shot Danielle a quick look. "Danielle, keep an eye on him, would you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Millie strode out to take her call.

Danielle snorted, rolled her eyes, and didn't even pretend to care. She headed straight for the door.

Alexander looked barely conscious.

He wouldn't be able to answer any questions in this state, and she wasn't about to stick around and play audience to their little drama.

But just as she reached the doorway, Alexander's unsteady steps wavered toward her. Suddenly, his weight crashed against her, forcing her to catch him.

Danielle met his gaze, just as frosty. "Where's my brooch?"

Alexander pressed his hand to his aching forehead, clearly frustrated. "I'm looking for it," he muttered.

She let out a scornful laugh and held up a screenshot from her phone. "No need. I already found it."

"Tell me, Alexander, do you enjoy making a fool of me?"

He glanced at the screen, focused for a few seconds, then looked away with practiced indifference. Slumping onto the couch, he rubbed his temples. "I'll give it to you tomorrow."

He couldn't have sounded less concerned, nor did he bother explaining why the brooch was in Millie's hands in the first place.

He had no intention of telling the truth, and Danielle had no intention of asking further. The fact that Millie had it—and had bragged about it—spoke volumes. Clearly, Alexander had given it to her himself.

Even now, he wouldn't give her a straight answer, just offered up empty excuses.

Danielle's lips twisted with scorn as she put her phone away. "If I don't get it tomorrow, I'll be back."