The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1003

“NextCore is the hottest ticket in town. The line of companies wanting a piece of that pie would stretch from the tech park to the city center,” she said, her voice steady. “The Phoenix-07 project is just too lucrative—the technology, the resources, the government backing—it's everything Ninesky desperately needs right now. For Niki's future, and for me to stand on my own two feet, I have to fight for this, even if it takes my last breath.”

Gian looked at her tense profile, his heart aching with a mix of helplessness and pain. He knew her stubborn streak—once her mind was made up, a team of wild horses couldn't drag her away. “I'll help you,” he finally conceded. “Come to my studio tonight. I have all the equipment. I'll be your assistant. It's better than you trying to handle this all by yourself.”

Danielle turned to him and gave a slight nod.

That evening, the lights in Gian's studio burned bright. The glow from computer screens illuminated their faces as the sound of keyboards clicking filled the air. Danielle was in charge of outlining the core terms of the contract, meticulously detailing everything from the technical integration timeline to the quality standards for components. Meanwhile, Gian cross-referenced data, matching Ninesky's past project case studies against the potential risks of this new venture to ensure nothing was overlooked.

During their work, Danielle was hit with two more waves of nausea. She dashed to the restroom, her stomach churning, and returned looking as pale as a sheet. Gian handed her a glass of warm water and a soda cracker. “Take a break,” he urged. “I can finish the rest.”

“I'm fine,” Danielle said, taking a bite of the cracker to quell the discomfort in her throat. She sat back down at the computer. “There's just one last part—the addendum on profit sharing. I need to write it myself to make sure we maximize our interests.”

Gian didn't press the issue. He simply sat beside her, proofreading each section as she finished writing it, doing his best to lighten her load. It wasn't until one in the morning that the detailed contract was finally complete. After a final check, Gian sent it to Alexander's email and then drove Danielle home.

Danielle forced herself to sit up, a dull ache starting in her stomach again. She opened her email and saw Alexander's densely packed revision notes. Every single comment pinpointed an issue with precision—he hadn't even overlooked a misplaced comma. She had to admit he was professional and authoritative, but at that moment, his extreme rigor felt particularly grating.

“I'm not feeling well right now. Can I fix it tomorrow morning?” The combination of exhaustion and morning sickness was making it almost impossible for Danielle to hold on.

Alexander, apparently oblivious to her condition, was unmoved. “A company isn't a playground, and a partnership isn't a game. If you can't handle the pressure and this level of intensity, then there's no point in continuing this partnership. Plenty of other companies are eager to work with NextCore. We don't need Ninesky.”