His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 153

Whitley didn't say a word.

She was simply too busy.

Clive didn't seem to care about her silence, either.

She had opened her laptop and thrown herself entirely back into her proposal—crunching data, tightening the logic, and fleshing out the minutiae. She was entirely lost in her own world, blind to the passing hours.

When she finally stopped, rubbing her aching neck, she glanced at the time in the corner of her screen.

It was 3:57 AM.

Outside, the sky was pitch black. The entire estate was dead silent, swallowed by sleep.

She tidied her desk and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

To avoid any awkwardness, she deliberately chose to sleep in the guest bedroom, steering clear of the master suite that belonged to Clive and Yelena.

But the hair dryer she needed was still sitting on the vanity in the master bedroom.

After hesitating, she carefully pushed open the master door.

The lights were off, the room illuminated only by the faint moonlight spilling through the windows, casting soft shadows over the furniture.

She hurried over to the vanity, grabbed the hair dryer, and turned to leave immediately.

Right then, she heard the soft click of the door handle behind her.

Whitley's heart skipped a beat as she whipped around.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, familiar silhouette.

Clive.

He carried the crisp chill of the late-night air. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his shirt collar loosened, making his sharp features look even more intimidating in the dark.

Whitley stiffened, her grip on the hair dryer turning her knuckles white.

She had just showered and was wearing nothing but a towel. The moonlight caught the delicate line of her shoulders, leaving her feeling exposed, defensive, and deeply uncomfortable.

The unexpected incident that had trapped them into marriage was a nightmare she had lived with for years. Clive had always believed it was a calculated trap on her end—a scheme to force her way into the Sherwood family.

Being caught like this now, she was terrified he would assume she was waiting for him, trying to seduce him all over again.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs, the door to the study opened, and she came face-to-face with Clive.

He looked exhausted, clearly having stayed up all night working at his desk.

"Let's get breakfast," he said, breaking the silence. His tone was perfectly level. "I'll drop you off after."

Whitley froze, wondering if she had misheard him.

In all their years of marriage, he had never once offered to drive her anywhere, let alone cared about her schedule.

His sudden shift in behavior was jarring.

She didn't agree. Holding the vase tightly, she said flatly, "No thanks. I can manage on my own."

Without another word, she walked past him, headed straight out the front door, and didn't look back.

Clive stood at the top of the stairs, watching her leave. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn't say a word to stop her.

When Leroy finally trudged down to the living room, Whitley was long gone, and the extravagant breakfast he had demanded was nowhere to be seen.