His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 133

Suddenly, a firm grip locked around her wrist.

Whitley yanked her arm, glaring back at him. "Let go."

Clive released her, his brows pulling together in a dark, indifferent scowl. "He's your brother-in-law. What's the problem with taking care of him for one night?"

His tone suggested she was being entirely unreasonable. Whitley stared at him as if he had just told the most absurd joke in the world.

How did he even have the nerve to say that out loud? So he got to play house and have a romantic evening with Yelena, while she was expected to play the dutiful nanny to his brother?

She wasn't that pathetic!

Whitley let out a harsh, breathless laugh, her voice trembling with cold fury. "Clive, what gives you the right to think I should serve your brother? I told you before. I am done cleaning up this family's messes."

Without giving him a second glance, she turned on her heel and strode back to her room.

Leroy stood rooted to the spot, sniffing indignantly as he watched her walk away, only cementing his belief that his sister-in-law was a truly wicked woman.

Early the next morning.

Whitley packed her bags, ready to leave the resort and head back to the city for her chemo appointment.

Just as she reached the elevator, she saw Yelena leading Leroy out of her own separate hotel room.

Yelena and Whitley locked eyes, both freezing for a fraction of a second.

Whitley understood immediately.

They had spent the night in the same room, but this morning they were playing the part of sleeping separately. They really did go above and beyond to keep up appearances.

Yelena was the first to break the silence, offering a sweet, entirely hollow smile. "Morning! We didn't even get the chance to catch up yesterday."

"How are things going for you over at Chisholm's lab? Is the work going smoothly?"

Whitley didn't feel they had anything worth discussing, so she treated the woman like thin air.

Yelena, however, kept right on talking, adopting the patronizing tone of a savior offering charity. "I'm planning to open my own pharmacology lab soon. Clive said that if you're struggling, I could always take you on as my assistant."

"If you're unhappy working over there, you can come to me anytime. Consider it my way of saying thank you for watching Leroy yesterday."

Every single word was designed to belittle her, to humiliate her, to remind Whitley that her entire existence was reliant on their scraps.

"This kind of work won't pass my standards."

Yet Whitley knew perfectly well that if this data were presented to any other pharmaceutical company in the industry, it would be treated as top-tier proprietary tech.

She pressed her lips together. "I'll keep working on it."

After she hung up, Chisholm noticed her expression and offered a comforting smile. "The old man has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. He just expects the absolute best from you."

Whitley nodded.

In the world of scientific research, if you weren't moving forward, you were falling behind. She had let her skills rust for years; it was true that she was still a long way from her peak.

Chisholm chuckled. "Give it a little more time, and you'll be wiping the floor with us veterans."

His joke managed to pull a small, relaxed smile from her. "Don't flatter me."

Right as it was time to clock out, her phone buzzed. A name she had zero desire to see flashed across the screen.

It was Clive Sherwood.