The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1233

After Harold's footsteps faded down the hall, the hospital room fell silent. Alexander lay on the bed, his eyes fixed on the stark white light of the ceiling fixture until they began to burn. The wound in his chest throbbed with a dull ache, and every breath sent a searing pain through his body. But that physical agony was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety in his heart. How was Danielle? Was his daughter, Niki, safe? Would Harold harm them?

He couldn't just lie here, helpless at Harold's mercy. With a trembling hand, Alexander slowly reached up. His fingers, weak and unsteady, closed around the IV needle taped to the back of his hand, and without a second of hesitation, he yanked it out. A sharp sting followed, and a bead of warm blood welled up from the puncture, dripping onto the white sheet and spreading into a startling crimson stain.

He tried to push himself up, but his body felt as if it were filled with lead. He had barely lifted himself an inch before a wave of excruciating pain from his chest forced him back down. Gasping for air, he broke out in a cold sweat. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he tried again, only to be met with even more intense pain and waves of blackness that clouded his vision. He was so weak he couldn't even sit up.

Just then, the door swung open, and two nurses entered with a medical cart, followed by the attending physician. Their faces changed when they saw the blood on his hand and the discarded IV needle on the floor. “Mr. Davidson, what are you doing?” one of the nurses hurried over, pressing a cotton swab to the back of his hand. “Your injuries are severe. You need to rest and must not move.”

The doctor also stepped forward, carefully examining his wound with a deep frown. “Your current condition absolutely forbids any strenuous activity. This facility is heavily guarded; you can’t get out. Your best option is to cooperate with the treatment so you can recover as quickly as possible.” Alexander’s body went limp against the mattress, the light in his eyes slowly dimming. He knew the doctor was right. In his state, he couldn't even hope to walk out of the room, let alone escape this fortress.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to suppress the despair rising in his chest, and opened them again. “How is Danielle? I want to see her.” The nurse who was reinserting his IV hesitated, her eyes flickering away. “You can rest assured, Mr. Davidson,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Miss Crawford is fine.” “I want to see her,” Alexander repeated, his voice firm. He needed to see with his own eyes that she was safe.

The nurse looked troubled and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Davidson, but that’s against the rules. We can’t let you see her.” After quickly setting the IV drip, she and the doctor hurried out of the room, as if his very presence was an oppressive weight. The door clicked shut, once again sealing him off from the outside world.

Alexander stared at the ceiling, his expression composed, a storm of emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes. Danielle was fine… for now. But they were Harold’s prisoners. How long could that “fine” possibly last? He knew Harold wouldn't let them go easily. This game had only just begun. And the only thing he could do now was to regain his strength. It was his only chance to protect Danielle and his daughter.

At that very moment, the door creaked open again, and the faint scent of perfume drifted into the sterile room.