His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 24

She had loved Lyanna like her own mother. She had treated the Nashes like they were her own flesh and blood.

But the moment Yelena returned, a few carefully planted lies were all it took to reduce twenty years of love to ashes.

She could tolerate Clive’s indifference. She could survive a loveless marriage.

But hearing the mother who raised her wish she had been abandoned? It broke something fundamental inside her.

In that instant, it felt like the blood froze in her veins.

Was she really that abhorrent? Two decades of being their daughter, entirely invalidated by biological DNA.

They knew her better than anyone. They knew she had always been a little stubborn but fiercely loyal. Once, they had adored her for it.

Now, everything she did was a calculated offense. Everything she touched was stained with malice. In their eyes, she was the villain of the story.

Whitley squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the thick lump in her throat, and hurried down the hospital corridor.

Behind her, Yelena was still putting on an award-winning performance, sweetly begging her family not to hold a grudge against her dear sister.

As she turned the corner, a voice called out to her.

"Whitley?"

Whitley stopped and looked back. "Dr. Thorne?"

Casper Thorne walked over, his professional demeanor softening as he looked at her. "You look terrible. Since you’re already here, we should run some tests. We can schedule the surgery for the end of the month."

Whitley instinctively placed a hand over her lower abdomen.

He was right. There was nothing more important than her own life right now.

She had been putting it off. She had kept telling herself to wait until Clive was back from his overseas assignment, wait until they had a real conversation about their future.

But there was no need for that anymore. He had made his choice. Yelena was pregnant with his child. Even if Clive found out about Whitley's condition, he wouldn't care. To him, she was entirely expendable. If she died tomorrow, it wouldn't even disrupt his morning routine.

Clive.

What the hell was he doing here?

The moment her feet hit the pavement, Cole stepped out of the driver's seat and approached her.

"Mr. Sherwood would like you to get in, ma'am."

Cole’s face was completely impassive, though there had always been a subtle undercurrent of disdain in his eyes when he looked at her. To him, she was just a useless trophy wife.

Whitley walked over to the back door but didn't get in. She simply looked at the man sitting in the leather seat. "What do you want?"

Clive was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, calmly flipping through a stack of documents. He had an aura of refined elegance, yet an impenetrable wall of coldness surrounded him.

He barely glanced at her. "Get in."