His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 157

Reid Montgomery's brow furrowed slightly.

He had always thought Whitley seemed decent enough—quiet, grounded, and hardly the ruthless gold-digger Xander made her out to be.

But seeing her sitting completely stone-faced next to her husband, only to light up while whispering to another man, it was hard not to judge.

Reid wiped the thought from his mind, stepped onto the stage, and officially kicked off the summit.

During the highly technical presentation on targeted delivery systems, Whitley was completely dialed in. She scribbled down metrics, cross-referenced data points, and mapped out optimization strategies in her notebook.

Clive, sitting rigidly beside her, glanced over at her pages. "Do you even understand half of what you're writing?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

Whitley's jaw tightened. She instantly pulled her notebook away, shielding it from his view.

Yelena leaned over and offered a sickly sweet laugh. "Oh, she's probably just taking dictation for Mr. Vance. I mean, the molecular structures and release parameters are a bit out of her depth, don't you think?"

The subtext was obvious: Whitley was a washed-up housewife pretending to be a scientist.

Watching Whitley actively hide her work from him, Clive let out a cold, humorless scoff and looked away.

From the stage, Reid saw the entire exchange.

His eyes narrowed. *Is she really so repulsed by her own husband that she won't even show him her notes?*

Once the presentation wrapped, the hall filled with the deafening hum of networking executives. The air felt thick and claustrophobic.

Unable to breathe, Whitley slipped out and headed for the outdoor terrace.

As she stepped out, she spotted Clive leaning against the railing, smoking.

In all their years together, she had rarely seen him smoke, let alone around her.

Clive noticed her but didn't react. He just looked back out at the city skyline, zero interest in acknowledging her existence.

Whitley took a deep breath.

Clive's expression morphed instantly. The bored indifference vanished, replaced by a level of sheer panic Whitley had never seen in him. "Where is she?"

"Right outside the women's room—"

Before the assistant could even finish, Clive bolted. He didn't spare Whitley a single glance. He just turned and practically ran down the hall.

Whitley stood frozen, the words "divorce papers" dying on her lips.

He couldn't even give her ten seconds to finish a sentence.

Yelena had a stomach ache, and the world stopped spinning.

Yet she clearly remembered the time she drank herself into a hospital bed, bleeding from her stomach just to secure a deal for his family.

He hadn't shown up once.

No visits. No texts. Not even a token phone call to ask if she was alive.