My Double Kills Me, So My Husband Kills Her

Chapter 8

Alexander's eyes turned ice cold.

"Copied your looks?" he asked slowly, his voice dangerously low. "Are you saying she looked a lot like you?"

Olivia shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah. That's why I went so hard on her."

"That psycho knew you liked me," she continued with a scoff, "so she got surgery to look just like me. Thought she could steal you away and take my place. Can you believe the nerve?"

"She even had the audacity to say she was your wife. Isn't that hilarious?"

Olivia laughed mockingly, clearly amused by her own words.

But Alexander wasn't laughing.

His face darkened, a terrifying shadow clouding his expression.

Without warning, he spun around and grabbed one of the bodyguards by the collar, his voice a growl:

"Where. Did. You. Bury. Her?"

The bodyguard's face went pale. Sweat poured down his forehead as he stammered, "I-It was… in the wasteland, just right of the villa…"

Before the sentence finished, Alexander bolted from the courtyard like a madman.

"Alex? Alex, where are you going?!" Olivia called out, confused, running after him in her heels.

Her friends and the rest of the staff trailed behind, bewildered and breathless.

Alexander, usually calm, composed, untouchable, was now tearing through the grounds like a man possessed. His expensive coat snagged on tree branches, mud splattered across his polished shoes, but he didn't care.

He skidded to a stop at the edge of the wasteland, eyes locking on a freshly-dug patch of earth.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and began digging. With his bare hands.

The dirt tore into his skin, blood mingling with soil. His eyes were wild, glassy, his face tight with desperation.

"Alex, what are you doing?!" Olivia cried, catching up.

She stared at him in disbelief, her voice rising. "Why the hell are you digging up her grave?"

"Do you seriously care about her that much?!"

"Didn't you tell me I was the only one you loved?"

Alexander didn't answer.

His hands kept moving, frantic, shaking, relentless.

Blood soaked his cuffs, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't.

Olivia stormed forward, her voice shrill with disbelief and jealousy.

"Alex, listen to me! I'm the one who's been with you! I'm your lover!"

"How can you care so much about her? What does she have that I don't?!"

Her friends rushed to her side, fuming.

"Mr. Holt, she was nothing but a knockoff version of Olivia," one of them snapped. "A copycat with a fake face!"

"She wasn't even pretty until she had work done. Don't let her get into your head!"

"She tried to ruin what you and Olivia have! Called Olivia a substitute, like she was the real deal. Bitch had it coming!"

Their words were venomous, self-righteous.

But Alexander didn't even hear them.

He kept digging until his hands hit something soft.

And then he saw her, me.

Caked in dirt. Covered in blood. Barely recognizable.

His heart stopped.

He scooped me into his arms, his hands shaking as he wiped the grime from my face, desperately searching for something, anything, that proved I was still alive.

"Call an ambulance!" he roared, turning to the guards. "Now!"

One of the bodyguards hesitated before stepping forward, voice low and cautious.

"Mr. Holt… she's gone."

A beat of silence.

Then,

Alexander pulled a dagger from his belt and drove it straight into the guard's chest without hesitation.

"She's not dead," he hissed, eyes blazing.

"Not unless I say so."