The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1295

“When they’re older and their bond is even deeper, if something really happens, what will Niki do? It won’t be easy for her to let go.”

Those words struck the softest spot in Alexander’s heart. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, an image of Niki and Raffy chasing butterflies in the yard flashing through his mind. The sound of their clear, bright laughter echoed in his ears like wind chimes.

“I know,” Alexander said again, opening his eyes. “Niki has always liked playing with Raffy. Before, because of my own issues, I tried to keep them apart. Back then, I always felt that Millie’s child shouldn’t get too close to a Davidson child. I was afraid they’d be used as leverage against us, and I was afraid Niki would get hurt.”

He looked at Gian. “Thinking back, I was too rigid. Niki has a mind of her own. She judges people by her own standards. If she weren’t happy playing with Raffy, she would have stopped on her own. She would never force herself to be friends with someone she doesn’t like. Besides, who knows how Raffy will turn out? If he makes a mistake, I’ll send him away.”

Gian stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding. He raised his teacup and gently clinked it against Alexander’s. “As long as you have a plan, I’m reassured.”

His tone softened. “Kirsten and I are just worried about you both. Especially Danielle. She’s just gotten past all that unpleasantness, and we don’t want her to get hurt again. If the boy is sensible, that’s one thing. But if he isn’t, if he’s manipulated by someone, Danielle will be the one to suffer in the end.”

“I know,” Alexander said. “Thank you for the warning. From now on, please don’t bring up Raffy with Danielle. She’s sensitive and tends to overthink things. I don’t want her to lose sleep over this.”

But recently, the rumors from the outside world had been too loud. Harold’s imprisonment, the turmoil within the Davidson family, and even the news of Alexander’s incident in Antarctica had reached the patriarch’s ears.

The car stopped at the gate of the old estate. An old servant greeted him respectfully, taking his jacket. “Sir, the patriarch is waiting for you in the study. He’s been waiting for almost an hour.”

Alexander nodded and pushed open the doors to the main house. The courtyard was filled with all kinds of flowers and plants. He crossed it and entered the study, where he saw the patriarch sitting at a large mahogany desk, a brush in his hand, practicing his calligraphy.