His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 21

As soon as Whitley Nash dropped the words, a bizarre, heavy silence swallowed the interior of the car.

She looked straight into the man’s eyes—they were dark, fathomless, and entirely unreadable. She had never been able to figure him out. Whenever he looked at her, it was with an endless, chilling detachment.

That gaze always felt like a knife to her heart.

He didn't say a word. Her voice had been quiet, and for a fleeting second, she wasn't even sure if Clive had heard her.

Whitley lowered her gaze, unable to bear the coldness in his eyes any longer. "Clive..."

Before she could finish her sentence, his phone rang.

It was Yelena Nash.

Whitley took a deep breath, her chest tightening. *Could you just let me finish for once?*

Without a hint of hesitation or guilt, he answered the call, completely dismissing whatever she was about to say.

*Am I really that repulsive to him?*

"Clive, are you still coming up tonight?" Yelena’s voice was sickeningly sweet and soft on the other end.

Clive’s tone instantly shifted to a gentle warmth. "Are you not feeling well?"

"No, I’m fine," Yelena replied. "Just asking. Don't forget about our meeting with Dr. Landon."

"I won't."

After hanging up, Clive casually pocketed his phone and looked at Whitley with a slow, deliberate gaze. "It's a national project. Dr. Landon is bringing Yelena on board, and you’ll be mentoring her."

Whitley froze, her eyes turning ice-cold. "I never agreed to that."

"It's not up for discussion," Clive replied. His tone was flat but carried an undeniable, commanding weight.

Whitley stared at him. "So, you're just informing me. You're not asking."

He was willing to hand Yelena everything on a silver platter. Did he ever stop to think about the position it put her in?

Clive met her stare. "She is your sister."

Whitley let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "I am not letting her on my team."

Without another word, she unbuckled her seatbelt, pushed the car door open, and slammed it shut behind her, walking away without looking back.

Back at the villa, Whitley looked around. She had decorated every inch of this place. This was supposed to be her sanctuary, the home she had always dreamed of—warm, inviting, and full of hope.

As soon as they walked through the door, the smell of a home-cooked dinner hit her. Her parents had already set the table. The atmosphere was warm, grounding her instantly. After dinner, she headed to her room to unpack.

Josiah leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "Did Clive give you a hard time?"

Whitley shook her head, not looking up. "No. Don't worry about it."

Josiah’s eyes darkened with fierce protectiveness. "Listen to me, Whitley. You didn't grow up with us, and maybe we don't have the kind of power the Sherwoods do. But if Clive Sherwood ever lays a hand on you or bullies you, I will make him pay."

Tears pricked the corners of Whitley’s eyes. For so long, she had been entirely alone. To have someone unequivocally in her corner meant everything.

But she couldn't let Josiah get dragged into her mess. He had a bright future ahead of him, and Clive was ruthless. If Clive decided to retaliate, he would crush the Zimmerman family without a second thought.

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Josiah. Seriously. If I ever need to cry about something, you’ll be the first to know."

Josiah smiled, playfully tapping her nose. "You look pale. And you've lost weight."

"Just stressed from work," Whitley lied smoothly.

The next morning, Whitley’s phone buzzed. It was a call from the Nash residence, demanding she come over immediately.

She hailed a cab and headed toward the neighborhood she had grown up in. Looking at the familiar streets, a wave of nostalgia hit her. She knew every corner of this place.