The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1128

But she never considered that he would have his own life, that he would one day leave her.

Sammie turned his head, his gaze heavy as he looked at Rebecca.

“Miss Rebecca, I am only your bodyguard.” His voice was still calm, but carried a hint of imperceptible hoarseness. “Protecting you is my duty.”

“Even if I get engaged, I will still be at your beck and call for whatever you need.”

“This life is yours, too.”

Rebecca took a sharp breath.

She looked at him, suddenly feeling a sense of powerlessness.

How was a statement like that any different from a confession of love?

But it wasn't.

Sammie gave her more than enough security; Rebecca knew his life was truly hers to command. But beyond that, there was nothing.

She knew that no matter what she said, he wouldn't change his mind.

The car fell into silence.

Rebecca leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at him anymore, nor did she want to argue. Her chest felt tight, as if something were lodged there, making it hard to breathe.

After a long while, she slowly opened her eyes, her voice calm but laced with a new distance. “Just drive. Take me back to the clinic.”

Sammie didn’t speak, silently starting the car.

The car pulled away from the Davidson family estate and headed toward the clinic. The silence in the car was heavy, the air thick and stagnant.

Rebecca watched the streetlights streak past the window, her thoughts a tangled mess. She didn’t know what her feelings for Sammie truly were—dependence, habit, or something else entirely. All she knew was that the thought of him getting engaged and leaving her caused a strange ache in her heart.

The door was ajar. He knocked gently twice.

The moment he pushed the door open, Sammie froze, instinctively averting his eyes.

Rebecca was wrapped in a white bathrobe, her long hair damp and draped over her shoulders. Water dripped from the ends, trickling down her neck and into the collar of the robe, hinting at the skin beneath. She had just showered, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hazy as if from alcohol, all traces of her usual cool composure gone.

“What is it?” Sammie’s gaze was fixed on the carpet in the corner, never once lifting to meet her eyes.

Rebecca watched his tense profile. She took two steps forward, the tie of her bathrobe loosening.

“Don’t you do whatever I say?”

Sammie’s throat bobbed. He didn’t speak, but his silence was an admission. For years, he had indeed complied with her every request without question.

“Then help me take a shower.”