His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 13

Clive's dark eyes locked onto her fallen figure, but his gaze remained a pool of chilling indifference.

At that moment, nearly every eye in the room darted toward Yelena. As Whitley's sister, she gasped, putting on a flawless display of panic as she rushed forward.

But before Yelena could reach her, Chisholm was already there, scooping Whitley into his arms.

The noise around Whitley faded into a chaotic buzz. Her body felt entirely devoid of strength, the agonizing cramps in her stomach pushing her to the brink of unconsciousness. She curled her fingers into fists, desperately trying to anchor herself against the pain as Chisholm's frantic, worried voice broke through the haze.

As Chisholm carried her away, Whitley weakly opened her eyes. Across the room, her gaze collided with Clive's. From a distance, his eyes were dead and apathetic. Whitley closed her eyes, shutting him out completely.

Her husband could be warm, polite, and attentive to literally anyone else in the world, but to her, he offered nothing but an endless winter. Even when she was dying right in front of him.

Yelena tried to follow them, but Chisholm turned with a glacial glare. "Stay back, Ms. Nash."

He knew how much Whitley despised Yelena; there was no reason to let the woman add to her misery.

Clive stepped up, effectively stopping Yelena from pursuing them any further.

Yelena bit her lower lip, her eyes brimming with manufactured concern. "She looks so sick... it looked really serious. What happened? She was completely fine before..."

Chisholm looked up, his eyes locking onto Clive. "Mr. Sherwood, aren't you coming?"

Chisholm knew Whitley had mentioned a divorce, but legally, they were still married. How could a husband stand by and watch this happen with such terrifying detachment?

Clive simply stared back at Chisholm.

Yelena gently rested her fingers over her pregnant belly, letting them tremble just enough to be noticed. She played the part perfectly—scared, panicked, and in desperate need of comfort. She knew that the more delicate she acted, the more protective a man would feel, especially since she was carrying his child.

Playing her cards flawlessly, she swallowed her 'grievances' and looked up at him. "You should go, Clive. I can wait. I'll take care of myself... she's all alone right now. It's so sad."

Every single word dripped with understanding and grace.

Clive looked down at her, his expression utterly unmoved. "My priority is right here."

That one sentence was Whitley's death warrant. He had never chosen her. And he was never going to protect his wife.

He didn't yell, he didn't coddle, but every word he spoke was a shield built exclusively for her.

Yelena offered a sweet, wistful smile. "I'm honestly jealous of her... having people care so much about her."

-

In the car.

"Meds..."

Whitley's voice was so faint it was nearly swallowed by the hum of the engine.

Chisholm frantically dug through her bag. When his fingers brushed against the bottle of heavy painkillers, his heart sank. He watched as she dry-swallowed the pills with a tiny sip of water, her face as white as a sheet.

She managed to force out a few words. "Don't go to the hospital."