His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 141

The memorial service drew to a close. Javier looked dangerously pale, his body trembling so much he could barely keep his balance.

Goldie quickly supported his arm. "I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"Don't bother," Javier murmured, forcing a weak smile. "With the way my health is going, I'll be spending the rest of my days in a hospital bed anyway. Having the whole family gathered like this... I doubt we'll ever get the chance again."

Whitley's chest tightened. A sharp wave of sorrow and panic washed over her, and tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

It took her a long time to steady her breathing. Needing a moment, she turned and headed toward the convenience store to grab a bottle of water.

But as she stepped out of the store and neared the parking lot, her footsteps abruptly stopped.

Not far away stood the man who had claimed he had an "absolute emergency" and needed to leave the service early.

Clive Sherwood was holding a large black umbrella, tilting the majority of it over the woman beside him. Yelena Nash had her arm looped intimately through his, gazing up at him with a radiant smile. Their cozy, affectionate demeanor was a jarring contrast to the solemnity of the memorial she had just left.

A misty drizzle fell from the sky, sliding off the edge of the umbrella—a perfect mirror to the endless, bitter ache in her chest.

Whitley closed her eyes, intending to pretend she hadn't seen them and just walk away.

But Yelena wasn't about to let her go. "Leaving so soon?" she called out, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Whitley didn't break her stride. She couldn't even be bothered to glance in their direction.

Clive simply gave her a cool, sweeping look. It was utterly devoid of emotion, as if she were nothing more than an irrelevant stranger passing by.

Unfazed by the cold shoulder, Yelena continued cheerfully, "The plot we picked for my grandmother a few years back isn't working out. I specifically asked Clive to come with me today to look at some new options. We're thinking of relocating her here. The environment is just so lovely."

Whitley had planned to hold her tongue.

But the moment the word "here" registered, the blood drained from her face. Ice flooded her veins.

The plot for the Nash family's grandmother had been finalized ages ago. What Yelena was doing now was a blatant, calculated provocation.

Her dignity, her grief, her grandfather's final resting place—in his eyes, it was all just something "on the way."

Yelena leaned closer to him, smiling with innocent triumph. "You aren't going to be petty about this, are you? It's just a plot of land. We'll practically be neighbors."

Neighbors.

As if Yelena Nash deserved to breathe the same air as her grandfather, let alone rest beside him.

A searing pain ripped through Whitley's chest, followed by a dizzy spell so violent she had to brace a hand against the wall just to stay upright.

The lingering exhaustion from her chemo sessions, mixed with this gut-wrenching humiliation, was almost more than she could bear.

She finally understood that some people truly possessed a cruelty without limits.

She had clung to this marriage for years, only to realize that, in the end, she couldn't even protect her grandfather's peace.