The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1301

Paula stared at the patriarch in disbelief, her tears flowing faster. "Grandpa, how can you say that? I'm your own flesh and blood."

The patriarch closed his eyes, refusing to look at her any longer. He simply waved a dismissive hand at the senior butler beside him. "Escort her home."

As Paula was dragged out of the historic estate, her shrieks echoed through the halls, carrying a chilling, suffocating despair.

But this time, no one paid her any mind.

Utterly defeated, Paula returned to the Jamison family estate, only to find Danny frantically packing his bags in a state of sheer panic.

He shot her a look of pure irritation. "You actually have the nerve to show your face here?"

"Your grandfather refused to help, and now the Jamison family is completely ruined. Let me make this perfectly clear—I'm not cleaning up this mess. I want a divorce!"

"A divorce?" Paula snapped, lunging at him. "Danny, you heartless bastard! Who was the one begging to marry me? Who used the Davidson family to climb the social ladder? Now you want to run away? Not a chance!"

The two grappled and shoved each other. Whatever love and affection they once shared was completely obliterated, leaving behind nothing but a pathetic, shattered mess.

And all of this.

Was entirely under Alexander’s control.

He had anonymously forwarded irrefutable evidence of Danny's illegal asset transfers to the IRS.

Soon enough, the Jamison family was hit with a massive tax evasion investigation involving millions of dollars.

Federal agents raided their offices, banks immediately called in their loans, and the Jamison family's company was pushed over the edge into total ruin.

Backed into a corner, Danny took a desperate gamble and reached out to the foreign operatives who had backed Harold Chapman.

He planned to trade the Davidson family's core technology for enough cash to flee the country.

Word of this brilliant plan quickly reached Alexander's ears.

Late that night, the underground parking garage of The Davidson Group was bathed in dim, flickering light.

Danny paced nervously, waiting to meet his foreign contacts. He tightly gripped a flash drive containing the proprietary Davidson technology he had painstakingly stolen.

Just as he thought he was about to get away with it, blinding headlights suddenly flooded the concrete space, trapping him in a glaring spotlight.

Dozens of men in sleek black suits poured out of the vehicles, forming an impenetrable perimeter around him.

All the color drained from Danny's face. The flash drive slipped from his trembling fingers, hitting the concrete with a sharp clatter.

He stared in absolute terror as Alexander stepped out of the lead vehicle. "Alex... how... what are you doing here?" he stammered, shaking uncontrollably.

Alexander closed the distance between them with slow, measured steps.

He crouched down and retrieved the flash drive from the ground. "Danny, I warned you once before. This isn't how you play the game."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the man's terrified face. His tone was chillingly indifferent. "Did you really think that colluding with foreign operatives and committing corporate treason would be your golden ticket out of here?"

Danny collapsed onto the hard concrete, sobbing in sheer panic. "Alex, I was wrong! I wasn't thinking straight!"

"Please, just let me go! I swear I'll never do it again!"

Alexander stared down at him, his expression devoid of a single ounce of pity. "It's too late."

He trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. "They're still blood. Watching them fall this far... it weighs on me."

Alexander tightened his grip on his empty glass, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Grandpa, this was the path they chose."

"They have no one to blame but themselves."

The patriarch didn't argue. He simply tilted his head back and finished his drink.

A cool evening breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying the faint, crisp scent of impending autumn.

This vicious game of family loyalty and corporate greed had finally come to a brutal, decisive end.

But Alexander knew the war was far from over.

The foreign operatives were still lurking in the shadows, and Harold's remaining loyalists had yet to be completely rooted out. The weight on his shoulders remained crushing.

-

Alexander returned to the house he shared with his wife.

The collar of his dress shirt hung open, his tie pulled loose around his neck. His normally immaculate hair fell in a messy, careless swoop across his forehead.

His eyes were heavily bloodshot, looking as though he had gone days without a single hour of sleep.

The warm, inviting aroma of dinner drifted through the living room.

Danielle walked out of the kitchen, untying her apron. The moment she caught sight of his battered state, her brow furrowed. She rushed forward, catching his arm just as he swayed slightly on his feet. "Why are you back so late? I specifically told the driver to bring you home early so you could rest."