His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 168

Josiah blinked in surprise, managing a strained, weak smile. "What are you doing here... I told them not to tell you. Didn't want to stress you out."

"If you kept hiding this, were you just going to go right back out and drink with clients the second they stitched you up?"

His eyes reddened. He turned his head away, his voice rough. "Grandma and Dad are sick. The medical bills are stacking up, and with your divorce coming up, you're going to need financial security."

"If this deal collapses, our family is going to be buried in debt. I can't break down right now. I can't drag you down with me."

A sharp sting hit the back of Whitley's nose. She couldn't say a word.

In the past, she had been so utterly consumed by the Sherwoods that she had remained entirely oblivious to the desperate crisis tearing her own family apart.

"Focus on your surgery. I'll take care of the rest."

The procedure was a success. Josiah was moved to a standard recovery ward.

Beds were tight, so he was placed in a cramped, noisy three-person room, a terrible environment for healing.

Whitley went to the nursing station to request a private VIP suite, only to be told they were entirely booked.

With no other options, she headed downstairs to grab some overnight essentials, planning to rough it out by his side for the night.

Walking out of the convenience store and approaching the hospital entrance, she noticed a familiar luxury car pulling to a stop.

Lyanna stepped out, carrying an ornate, high-end cake box, her face beaming.

Yelena stood right beside her, smoothly taking the box from her hands.

"I heard both you and Clive were hospitalized, and you didn't even think to call me," Lyanna said, though she looked anything but worried.

She was practically glowing. "Thanks to Clive's influence, Marmont Pharmaceuticals has been drowning in new contracts! It's deal after deal. I was just planning an enormous celebration party."

Yelena smiled softly. "We didn't want you to stress over us, so we kept it quiet."

Chatting and laughing, the mother and daughter strolled toward the inpatient wing.

Whitley stood frozen, her knuckles turning bone-white. The blood in her veins felt like it had turned to ice.

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