The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 788

The red “Message Failed to Send” alert flashed again and again on her screen, the words taunting her. Danielle jabbed the send button several times, growing more desperate each time.

The warning stayed stubbornly in the chat box, her message—“Someone in the next room wants to hurt you. Leave now.”—refusing to go through.

“What’s going on?” Danielle muttered, biting her lip, her brows knitted tight with worry.

She backed out of the chat, found Alexander’s number, and dialed. The line gave a cold, mechanical reply: “The number you’ve dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again.”

Not in service? Danielle’s heart plummeted, as if something had grabbed it and squeezed, making her breath catch for a moment.

She remembered Alexander’s indifferent glance when they’d passed in the hallway earlier, and the chilling words she’d overheard in the private room: “Make sure he never walks out of here.” Panic crawled up her spine.

“I need to make a call,” Danielle told Kirsten, barely pausing.

She didn’t wait for a response, just rose and hurried out of the room.

The hallway lights cast a yellowish glow, blurring the paintings on the walls. Her heels clicked briskly as she made her way toward Alexander’s private room. Turning a corner, she nearly collided with Nash, who was just stepping out.

“Miss Crawford?” Nash looked surprised, then his expression hardened, his tone clipped and distant. “Did you need something?”

He instinctively shifted to block the doorway, his posture guarded.

Danielle stopped, her gaze flicking past Nash’s shoulder to the closed door. She couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Is Alexander all right? Nothing’s happened in there, has it?”

Nash’s face turned icy. His words came out flat and firm. “Mr. Davidson’s affairs are none of your concern, Miss Crawford. There’s no need for you to get involved.”

She avoided Kirsten’s searching eyes, picking up her glass of juice and taking a sip. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s just enjoy dinner—it’s not often we all get together.”

Kirsten watched her for a moment, then, seeing she wouldn’t say more, let it drop. She pushed a plate of steaming food toward Danielle. “I know you love this—eat it while it’s hot, or it won’t taste the same.”

Danielle nodded, picking up a fork and trying a bite. But the food was tasteless in her mouth; her thoughts kept drifting back to Alexander, the warning echoing in her ears: Make sure he never walks out of here.

The farewell dinner dragged on late into the night. When Danielle finally left the restaurant, she was carrying a half-asleep Niki in her arms. The night air was thick with the scent of alcohol and laughter, snapping her mind back into focus.

Niki’s small head nestled against her shoulder, her warm breath tickling Danielle’s skin. She mumbled, “Mommy, I’m so tired. I want to go home…”

“Hush, sweetheart. We’ll be home soon.” Danielle gently patted her daughter’s back, walking carefully so as not to wake her.