The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 591

Danielle’s hand, hanging at her side, curled into a tight fist.

He didn’t seem to be in pain, but her own hand was starting to ache from hitting him.

It was as if he were some tireless madman—someone you simply couldn’t reason with.

And the truth was, when it came to sheer physical strength, there was an enormous gap between men and women.

If Alexander didn’t let go, there was no way she could break free.

Danielle stared at the man in front of her, studying him intently.

Everything about him tonight was off. He was nothing like the Alexander she used to know—he barely seemed like the same person.

Gone was the cold, indifferent man who never showed a trace of emotion.

Danielle forced herself to stay calm.

She could feel the heat radiating off him, and every breath he took was searing against her skin.

Her face set in a stern line, she reached up and pressed her palm lightly to his forehead.

Burning hot.

Clearly running a high fever. When he’d said earlier that he wasn’t feeling well, that his head hurt, he hadn’t been lying.

This wasn’t just some excuse to crash at her place for the night.

But then, what did he mean when he said he had nowhere else to go?

He’d insisted he hadn’t mistaken her for someone else.

Danielle fixed her gaze on him, her eyes cold and unyielding.

“Did the fever fry your brain, Alexander? Can’t you just say what you mean for once?”

“We’re divorced,” she continued, her voice steady. “Let me go. If you have something to say, we can talk about it—civilly, okay?”

She was trying to reason with him.

But there’s no reasoning with a feverish, delirious man.

“What is it?” Alexander’s eyes met hers, his arms locking even tighter around her waist, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before, right?”

Danielle’s face turned to stone.

What an utter fool.

A feverish, out-of-his-mind idiot.

Everything he was doing and saying tonight was completely irrational.

She took a deep breath. There was no point in getting worked up—emotions weren’t going to fix anything right now.

She slapped him, more than once, but it was as if she was only giving him what he wanted.

Finally, out of options, she snapped, “Is this how you want to keep going with me? Just like this?”

He shook his head, then suddenly buried his face against her chest.

His voice was hoarse, muddled, as if he couldn’t quite tell what was happening.

Danielle could tell, without a doubt, that he was barely conscious.

He probably didn’t even know what he was doing anymore.

“What do you want me to do…wife?” Alexander clung to her desperately. “What do I have to do to make you happy?”

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