The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1271

Inside the interrogation room, a harsh white light beat down on Harold’s face, illuminating the sinister glint in his eyes. Dressed in a prison jumpsuit, his hair was a mess and his stubble was overgrown. The image of the calculating mastermind he once was had vanished, replaced by a picture of utter defeat. The interrogator across from him pushed a thick stack of evidence forward. “Harold, this is more than enough to prove you colluded with foreign powers, stole national defense secrets, and deliberately conspired to murder Alexander, Danielle, and others. Do you have anything left to say?”

Harold glanced down at the documents—fingerprint analysis, transaction records, communication logs—each piece an irrefutable mountain of proof. Yet, a low chuckle escaped his lips, growing louder and more unhinged, tinged with a bitter unwillingness to concede. “Evidence?” He snapped his head up, glaring at the interrogator. “This is all fabricated! Alexander framed me. He’s jealous—jealous that I was always more qualified than him to inherit everything from the Davidson family.”

The interrogator watched him, his expression impassive. “Still trying to argue, even now? Harold, we’ve thoroughly investigated the history between you and Alexander. You meticulously targeted him for one reason: you believed he stole what should have been yours.”

“Stole?” Harold flinched as if struck. He slammed his hands on the table. “It was always mine! I am a Davidson by blood! Why should Alexander get to live a life of luxury, control The Davidson Group, and lead the J-07 project? And me? I was stuck with the Chapman name, forced to watch from the outside as he took everything that belonged to me.” His voice was hoarse with venomous hatred. “I didn’t betray my country. I just wanted to take back what was mine! Those technical files were my due. Alexander is the real thief! He stole my life!”

The interrogator found his hysterical display utterly laughable. “Hopelessly delusional,” he muttered coldly. He stood, preparing to leave. “You’d better think carefully. Confess and you’ll be treated with leniency. Resist, and you’ll face the full force of the law.”

Harold watched his retreating back. “I’ll never admit to anything. I will never let Alexander win.”

Meanwhile, a dead silence had fallen over the Gaylord family’s old estate. Vincent sat on the living room sofa, clutching a newspaper. The front-page headline, featuring a striking photo of Harold being taken into custody, made his fingers tremble. He crumpled the paper, his face drained of all color. The butler approached cautiously with a cup of hot tea. “Sir, please have some tea.”

Vincent seemed not to hear him, his gaze fixed on the photograph. He muttered to himself, “How could this have happened? How could the defeat be so absolute?” He couldn’t accept it. After decades of careful scheming, using marriages and manipulation to build the Gaylord family’s power, he had joined forces with Harold to swallow The Davidson Group whole and seize control of the J-07 project, aiming to become the true power behind the throne. He thought the inescapable net he’d woven would be Alexander’s doom. But he never imagined that Alexander would not only escape the frozen wasteland of Antarctica but also return with enough evidence to completely destroy them. The way Gian and Kirsten pulled the rug out from under them, the Strategic Intelligence Agency’s swift strike, Jake’s downfall—it all happened too fast, too unexpectedly. The Gaylord family’s businesses were seized, their accounts frozen. The once-bustling estate was now desolate, inhabited by only a few lonely figures.