His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 127

She had made that breakfast entirely for herself. She hadn't said a single word or made a single gesture implying it was for him.

Clive acted as if he was completely oblivious to her shock. Seeing her approach, he set the spoon down. His voice was flat, casually dropping a critique as if he was entitled to the meal: "It's a bit bland. You should add more salt next time."

Whitley was so furious she actually laughed. The suffocating anger she had swallowed all night completely ignited.

She looked at the man in front of her, finding him intensely foreign and unbelievably selfish.

"I think you misunderstood," Whitley said, her voice sharp and icy. "That wasn't for you."

He took her food without asking, didn't offer a sliver of an apology, and had the sheer audacity to critique the taste.

It was as if everything in this house, including the food she made, rightfully belonged to him.

Clive's expression didn't change in the slightest. Her anger seemed entirely meaningless to him.

He simply stood up, calmly wiped his mouth with a napkin, and headed upstairs to change. He didn't offer a single word of explanation, nor a hint of remorse. It was as if what just happened was a trivial, microscopic detail.

Whitley stood by the table, staring at the bowl he had half-eaten, feeling a wave of nausea hit her.

She didn't want anything to do with it. She grabbed the bowl and dumped the rest straight into the trash.

Once something was tainted, she wasn't going to touch it again.

Taking a deep breath, she forced the anger down and went to her room to pack.

It was just a weekend getaway. She just wanted to get it over with so she could come back and rest in peace.

But the moment she opened her closet, before she could even pick out an outfit, footsteps echoed in the hall.

Clive, now dressed in sharp casual wear, stood in the doorway. His tone was cold and impatient: "Are you ready? Bonnie is waiting."

Whitley paused.

She had been in her room for barely two minutes. He was already changed and waiting. He clearly had no intention of actually giving her time to prepare.

She didn't say a word. She just grabbed a light jacket and a small bag, then followed him out the door.

Clive had told her to come as his wife to pick up his grandmother.

And yet, he had let Yelena slide right into the seat that belonged to her.

The 'capacity' and 'dignity' he spoke of were nothing but casual lies.

In his heart, Yelena never needed a title to belong.

He had already given her all the exception and favoritism in the world.

As for the actual, legal Mrs. Sherwood? She looked like a complete joke. An unwanted intruder who couldn't even claim her own seat in her husband's car.

A spring breeze swept past, slightly cool, lifting the stray hairs by her temples and freezing her already shattered heart.

Whitley slowly let go of the handle and shut the door.

From the very beginning, she was the one who didn't belong.