The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1226

A black cloth was pulled over her eyes, plunging her world into instant darkness.

The roaring wind, the thrumming blades of a helicopter, and the steady, heavy footsteps of guards were the only sounds she could hear.

Danielle’s mind was a chaotic storm, but she forced herself to remain calm, trying to mentally map their route by the weight of the footfalls and the subtle shifts in the wind. But they seemed to be deliberately taking a circuitous path, heading east one moment and west the next, the ground beneath her feet alternating between smooth and rugged. An entire day and night passed in this disorienting journey, and they still hadn't reached their destination.

A heavy dread settled in Danielle’s heart. She knew Harold was doing this on purpose, terrified she might memorize the route and one day find her way back with help.

The prolonged jostling and hunger pushed Danielle’s body to its absolute limit. She leaned against the cold bulkhead of the aircraft, her body limp, but her jaw remained clenched in defiance.

When the blindfold was finally ripped away, she found herself in a dimly lit room. Her hands and feet were untied, but she was still trapped in this invisible cage.

Harold sat on a sofa across from her, a cigarette still dangling from his fingers as he watched her with a calm, unnerving gaze.

Danielle took a deep breath, suppressing the hatred that surged within her. “Harold, let us go,” she said, her voice raspy. “I can pretend none of this ever happened. I can even…”

Harold cut her off with a soft chuckle. “Pretend it never happened? Danielle, do you really think that’s possible?”

He stood up and walked over to her, bending down to look her in the eyes, his tone laced with a playful cruelty. “You should know that you and Alexander never should have gotten involved in this from the start.”

Danielle looked up, seeing the cold indifference in his eyes, and the despair in her heart deepened. She knew that from the moment she set foot in Antarctica, there was no turning back. Alexander’s life was hanging precariously in the balance, and the slightest misstep would lead to utter ruin.

And Harold, from the very beginning, had been playing the part of an innocent bystander. Their first meeting had been orchestrated. Everything since she joined Ninesky—no, since the IDISS competition—had been part of a premeditated plan. Men like him were always playing the long game, their machinations too deep to fathom, their moves impossible to anticipate. Living like that must be exhausting.

Danielle took another ragged breath. The air in the dim room was as heavy and stagnant as a block of ice. She sat on the cold floor, the hem of her clothes still stained with Alexander’s jarringly bright blood.

She lifted her gaze to Harold, her eyes devoid of warmth. “What is it you really want?”

“Raffy is my son now. You know what that means.”

His words were an ice-coated dagger plunging straight into her heart. A chill shot through her, so intense that her fingertips trembled violently. An image of her daughter’s sweet, smiling face flashed through her mind.

“You know what’s good for you,” Harold said, straightening up and brushing non-existent dust from his clothes. “I’ll give you one night. Think carefully.”

“Don’t force my hand. That won’t end well for anyone.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room. The moment the door closed, the soft click of the lock echoed, sealing Danielle in her cage of despair.

The food on the table was still warm, but Danielle felt frozen to the bone, each breath a shard of ice in her lungs. She slowly curled into a ball, burying her face in her knees as her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Her lover's life on one side, her daughter's safety on the other, and the crushing weight of the truth suffocating her from all directions.