The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1468

It was her father.

The man who had pampered her, protected her, and humored her medical ambitions since she was a little girl. He had let her be rebellious, let her travel across the globe.

And now, he was using the most ruthless method imaginable to stop her.

He even bypassed her entirely, going straight to Sammie.

Sammie watched her ashen face, and the tightly wound string in his heart plucked painfully.

He knew exactly how devastating those words were.

But he had no choice.

Some things couldn't be explained. He couldn't lay it all out for her; he just had to shoulder the burden himself.

Rebecca took a step back, as if all her strength had been stripped away.

She stared at the man in front of her.

Ten years.

He had guarded her, shielded her, trusted her, and stood by her.

Now, he stood on the opposing side, wielding the blade handed to him by the person she loved most, driving it effortlessly into her most vulnerable spot.

The fiancée stepped forward, reaching out to gently support her. "Rebecca, please don't be sad. We're only doing this for your own good..."

Rebecca's eyes snapped up, flashing with a chilling intensity.

That single glare stopped the woman dead in her tracks.

"I already said it," Rebecca rasped, clinging to her last shred of dignity. "My business has nothing to do with you."

She didn't look at anyone else.

Not Sammie, not the room full of dumbstruck friends, not this place that was once etched into her bones.

She turned on her heel, straightened her back, and walked out, step by step.

Her silhouette looked fragile, but she didn't look back, didn't hesitate, and refused to show even a sliver of defeat.

The door clicked shut behind her.

It sealed away the world inside.

Sammie stood perfectly still, staring at the closed door. His fists clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of his hands bulged.

His fiancée softly called out, "Sammie..."

Her path to Doctors Without Borders was dead before it even began.

And as for her and Sammie.

Ten years.

Tonight, in the pouring rain, it all finally evaporated into nothing.

The mood in the VIP lounge was dismal.

Her voice was sickly sweet, desperately trying to paint over the confrontation.

But Sammie's irritation had peaked, a suffocating frustration boiling in his chest with no outlet.

He didn't reply. He aggressively yanked his arm out of her grasp, his brow furrowed into a deep scowl.

"I'm going out for a smoke."

His tone was hostile and impatient. Before the words even landed, he was on his feet, storming across the room and out the door.