His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 102

Whitley poured every ounce of her energy into her pharmacological research.

She was determined to clear her name by proving her work from the ground up.

She spent her days glued to her laptop running endless simulations, or locked in conference rooms debating protocols with her team.

After work, she kept vigil at her grandmother's hospital bedside. Her days were exhausting but fiercely grounded.

Until 9 PM, when her phone suddenly shattered her focus.

Caller ID—

Clive Sherwood.

She had meant to block him, but since the divorce wasn't finalized, she occasionally had to be reachable.

She didn't want to answer. He rarely initiated contact, and whenever he did, it always came with an ulterior motive.

Whitley stared at the screen for a moment before swiping to accept. "What is it?" she asked, her voice entirely flat.

"Leroy is running a fever at the St. Jude's infirmary. Go take care of him," Clive ordered, leaving no room for argument.

Whitley's voice turned to ice. "His problems have nothing to do with me."

"Whitley." Clive's tone dropped dangerously. "He's my brother. No one else is around right now. Don't throw a tantrum over something like this."

Her chest tightened with a sharp, bitter pang. It was almost physically painful to hear.

He knew a fever couldn't be ignored, yet where had he been when her grandmother's health was spiraling?

He had brushed her off, claiming he was too busy, leaving her to shoulder the burden alone. But now that he needed someone, she was suddenly at the top of his list.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared out into the dark night. "There's a school nurse, and there are teachers. I won't be of any use."

"Yelena and I are out of town. We can't make it back," Clive said. "Go. Now."

Whether it was a business trip or a romantic getaway, Whitley didn't care to guess.

It was just laughable. Whenever they needed someone to clean up their messes, she was their ultimate safety net.

"I'm busy," she refused bluntly, pulling the phone away to hang up.

"Do you want me to terminate the PurePath Biologics deal entirely?"

Whitley frowned. "Give him an allergy shot and use cold compresses to physically bring the temperature down."

Leroy had a highly sensitive constitution. Whenever his allergies triggered a fever, standard medication was entirely useless.

After a grueling few hours, his temperature finally began to drop shortly before midnight.

Whitley sat in the plastic chair beside his bed, watching him toss and turn in his sleep. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what she was feeling.

Leroy had been spoiled rotten by his family since childhood. He had always treated her like the hired help and never offered her an ounce of respect.

But even so, she couldn't just leave him here to suffer.

She didn't sleep a wink that night.

As dawn broke, Leroy groggily opened his eyes and saw Whitley resting her head near the edge of the bed.

His first reaction wasn't gratitude. He irritably yanked on her sleeve. "Hey. I'm thirsty."

Whitley stood up and poured him a glass of water. "Still feeling awful?"

"My head hurts, and I have zero energy," he grumbled, acting as though she owed him the world.