His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 151

Clive raised his eyes, giving her a cool, indifferent glance. He capped his fountain pen and leaned back in his leather chair. "Sit."

Whitley Nash walked into the room but remained standing.

Throughout their marriage, she had always been the one initiating conversations, the one desperately trying to maintain their bond. He was always cold, offering only a token ear. Whether he ever actually took her words to heart, she honestly never knew.

"What is it?" he asked.

Whitley met his gaze head-on. "My grandfather's pottery vase. I won't allow it to be buried with Yelena's grandmother as some kind of morbid tribute."

Given the twisted history and the long-standing feud between their families, she refused to believe Clive was completely oblivious. Tossing her beloved grandfather's heirloom into a casket for Yelena's family was, to her, a blatant, sickening insult.

Clive was silent for a few seconds before asking mildly, "Your grandfather?"

Whitley's fingers curled into tight fists as a wave of bitter self-mockery washed over her.

Of course. He didn't even remember who her grandfather was.

It made sense. He had never cared about her, so why would he care about her family?

Clive looked down, his tone perfectly even. "So, it bothers you."

"I can buy it back at full price," Whitley said, her voice tight. "Or you can name your terms. I'll agree to whatever—"

"Fine," Clive cut her off, his voice infuriatingly light. "If you want it, take it."

Whitley froze, genuinely caught off guard.

In the past, whenever she had made small requests, he would usually agree, albeit coldly. But ever since Yelena Nash came back into the picture, everything Whitley wanted had to be put on the back burner. Since he had specifically acquired this piece for Yelena, she had been certain he wouldn't budge.

Clive glanced at her. "Anything else?"

"Your terms," she pressed, swallowing the complicated knot of emotions in her chest.

"Yelena and I are going out of town on business tomorrow," he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "You'll go back to the estate and watch Leroy for a few days. The vase is in the master bedroom. Get it yourself."

Whitley's chest tightened painfully. He could sit there and so openly talk about traveling with another woman, completely disregarding her feelings as his wife.

And yet, to get Shamar's heirloom back, she had no choice but to compromise.

Across the hall, Yelena, acting as a technical consultant, was smoothly discussing system protocols with Chisholm Vance.

Xander Sherwood sat nearby, making zero effort to hide the sneer on his face when he looked at Whitley. As far as he was concerned, Yelena was a brilliant professional, while Whitley was just a useless freeloader who had coasted in on her connections. They weren't even in the same league.

No wonder Clive never gave Whitley the time of day.

When Chisholm saw Whitley, he stood up and offered a warm nod. One of the executives suggested grabbing lunch, but both Chisholm and Whitley politely declined.

Xander watched Chisholm's attentiveness toward Whitley and scoffed internally. Chisholm had witnessed Yelena's excellence firsthand, yet he still bothered giving someone like Whitley the time of day? Pathetic.

Years ago, in her desperate bid to make her marriage to Clive work, she had thrown away her chance at a Ph.D., breaking Dr. Harrison's heart in the process. During her recent visits, her former mentor had been ice-cold. The fact that he was willing to critique her now meant the ice was finally thawing.

"Make these sections sharper. If you're going to do this, aim for the very top," Dr. Harrison ordered. His tone was strict, but underneath it, there was a glimmer of hope.

As they walked out, Chisholm smiled softly. "The professor has always been tough on the outside, but he's never stopped rooting for you."

"I know," Whitley said, a quiet determination igniting in her eyes. "I won't let him down again."

Watching the fiery ambition return to her gaze—reminding him of the brilliant girl she used to be—Chisholm said gently, "The past is in the past. Stop being so hard on yourself."

Whitley gave a small nod.

Back at PurePath Biologics, she buried herself in the proposal, entirely losing track of time until the sun went down. Remembering her deal to watch Leroy, she packed up her things and drove straight to the Sherwood estate.

She knew exactly what this was: a transaction. Clive had only agreed to give up the vase because he needed a babysitter.

-

The following evening, Leroy pulled open the door of Whitley's car and slid into the passenger seat, his chin tilted in arrogant entitlement.

He knew she'd come crawling back eventually.

The second he buckled his seatbelt, he started barking orders. "I want lobster bisque for dinner, and my eggs tomorrow morning better have truffles in them. If you miss a single thing, I'm telling my brother you're neglecting me."