His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 107

She was preparing to dismantle the accusations piece by piece at the upcoming press conference.

After clocking out, she drove straight to the hospital.

Her grandmother's condition was relatively stable, though her breathing grew shallow and labored in the evenings. Whitley sat by the bed, staring at the steady peaks and valleys on the heart monitor, a heavy weight settling over her.

Her wrist throbbed. The wound Leroy had torn open with the pillow had been quickly patched up by a nurse, but every slight movement sent a spike of pain up her arm.

Her lab work demanded microscopic precision. If her hand didn't heal properly, it could permanently destroy her career.

Anxious, she left the room and headed down to the ER to get it properly examined.

The doctor inspected the injury and looked at her sternly. "The wound was violently reopened. You need to keep this immobilized. If you keep straining it, you're going to suffer permanent nerve damage. Your fine motor skills will absolutely be compromised."

Whitley nodded silently. As she walked toward the billing counter, she caught sight of a familiar figure down the hall.

Josiah Zimmerman.

He was clutching a stack of medical files, his expression grim and exhausted, as he hurried toward the inpatient ward.

Whitley frowned, a spike of anxiety hitting her chest. She followed him quietly.

Outside the internal medicine wing, she heard a hushed conversation.

"You shouldn't be running to the hospital every day while the company is in crisis. You're exhausted."

"It's fine. I'll figure out the project. I'm meeting with the investor next week. As long as we secure this funding, the company will survive. Don't worry about anything else."

Whitley stood frozen outside the door, her heart sinking. Her brother's startup was struggling to stay afloat, and he had hidden the severity of the crisis from her.

The Zimmerman family didn't have deep pockets.

She showered, put on a sharp, professional suit that hid the bandages on her wrist, and met up with Josiah to head to the exclusive private club.

The investor, Mr. Weaver, was notoriously elusive. The meeting was set at a highly private tea room halfway up the mountain at the Zenith Estate.

They arrived thirty minutes early, only to be stopped at the door by a receptionist. They were told Mr. Weaver was busy with other guests and forced to wait outside.

The midday sun was absolutely blistering, and there was zero shade.

Josiah looked at Whitley's pale face, his chest tightening with guilt. "Go sit in the car. I'll wait out here."

Whitley shook her head. "No. We wait together."

They stood there for nearly two hours.

Finally, an assistant strolled out, looking entirely unbothered. "Apologies. Mr. Weaver doesn't have time today. You'll have to head back and reschedule."