The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 413

The man practically swept Danielle into his arms, shielding her as he helped her out of the fountain.

Soaked from head to toe, her clothes clung to her body, heavy and uncomfortable, water dripping everywhere.

Danielle had swallowed a mouthful or two, and her coughing came in sharp, desperate fits.

Her pale face flushed a deep red with each cough.

Harold’s expression darkened as he gently patted her back.

Liam eyed her with a raised brow. “Really? Are you always this delicate? It’s just a dip in the water. Who are you putting on this show for?”

He glanced at Harold. “Mr. Chapman, you’re surprisingly chivalrous today. Never seen you fuss over a woman like this before.” Liam’s gaze hardened. “Just don’t say we didn’t warn you—she’s not exactly a saint.”

Harold’s reply was icy. “And you are?” He looked up coldly. “I can see perfectly well—I don’t need your commentary.”

“Is this really the standard of the Davidson branch manager?” Harold’s tone was mocking. “Your thinking is painfully shallow.”

“You really don’t fit in with their style.”

Alexander stood nearby, colder than ever, the air around him practically freezing.

Liam’s face clouded at the barb. “I was just trying to help. No need to bite my head off.”

Millie pressed her lips together, then spoke softly, “Don’t worry, Mr. Chapman will figure out what kind of person she really is. Time reveals everything.”

To her, Danielle was just another pretty face trying to climb her way up. Harold was no fool; sooner or later he’d be able to tell who was genuine and who was just making noise.

Time always tells the truth.

Danielle, finally catching her breath, raised her eyes to Millie. “Why did you trip me?”

Millie hadn’t expected her to be so blunt. The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she froze.

Millie caught Danielle’s expression, exhaled, and then shrugged, suddenly feigning a magnanimous patience.

“Fine. I don’t want to argue with you,” Millie said, waving a hand as if letting it go. “If throwing blame at me makes you feel better, I’ll take it. Anyway, seeing you fall in, I did feel sorry for you. It looked miserable.”

“Do you want me to have someone bring fresh towels up to your room?”

Danielle replayed what had happened—she’d been walking just fine, and then a foot had shot out, sending her tumbling. No matter how you looked at it, it was intentional.

But there was no way to prove it.

Liam shot Danielle a look. “That’s enough. Don’t go around making wild accusations.”

Harold’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “Do you want to go to the hospital? Maybe get some medicine, just in case. It’s cold out—you shouldn’t risk catching a chill.”

His attention was entirely on Danielle.