His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 3

Whitley let out a soft, humorless laugh.

Matters to attend to? He was just in a rush to get back to the woman he actually cared about.-

Cole stepped forward again, offering a firm, undeniable gesture toward the exit.

As Clive turned away, he cast one last, indifferent glance over his shoulder. "While in public, I expect you to watch your words and actions. Remember who you are and the nature of our arrangement. I shouldn't have to remind you of this."

His voice was infuriatingly steady, maintaining that same level, hypnotic cadence. Yet every word, every pause, carried a crushing weight.

He was warning her. Keep her mouth shut. Don't ruin his perfect setup with Yelena. Don't embarrass the woman he actually loved.

He had thought of everything and everyone—except the fact that she, his actual wife, was the one being publicly humiliated in this twisted farce.

He hadn't outright said it, but he had just dragged her dignity through the mud.

Whitley scoffed internally. In that single moment, the line between who he loved and who he merely tolerated had never been clearer.

She took a deep breath, turned on her heel, and walked out.

She returned to Bayswater Estate, the sprawling luxury property that served as their marital home. The place she had lived in completely alone for three years.

She assumed Clive wouldn't come back tonight. Given how panicked he looked carrying Yelena into the ER, he would undoubtedly stay by her side to play the doting father.

Since love was officially off the table, it was time she protected herself.

She was going to divorce him and end this pathetic joke of a marriage.

During their first year of marriage, she had briefly tasted the hidden warmth beneath his icy exterior, foolishly mistaking it for love. If she hadn't seen him at the hospital today, his sudden return would have made her delirious with joy. She would have thought her three years of waiting had finally paid off.

But now, feeling his body heat against hers only made her violently nauseous.

She shoved him away with all her strength, scrambled out of bed, and slammed her hand against the bedside lamp.

The warm yellow light flooded the room, illuminating his handsome, completely unbothered face.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice smooth and devoid of guilt.

Whitley glared at him, her face set in stone, refusing to speak.

His dark eyes swept over her pale, exhausted features. Finding none of the joyous relief of a reunited wife, his expression grew even more impassive.