His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 45

Whitley tilted her head slightly. "It's not my baby you're carrying, so why should I be the one bending over backward to accommodate you?"

She wasn't about to play into Yelena's victim narrative.

Murmurs rippled through the office. The colleagues had just eaten Yelena's expensive pastries, so they were hesitant to speak up against her. But they had also worked alongside Whitley for years and knew exactly the kind of person she was—she wasn't one to back down.

Yelena hadn't expected Whitley to embarrass her so publicly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position. I just thought, given our relationship, we were close enough for me to ask. I had no idea..."

She lowered her eyes, looking every bit the tragic, bullied victim.

Chisholm glanced at Yelena. "There's another office right next door. It's just as convenient and spacious."

Without waiting for Yelena to argue, he firmly shut down any further negotiation. "It's already been cleaned out for you. Right this way."

Yelena had no choice but to agree, though resentment boiled beneath her sweet facade as she stepped into her new space.

Chisholm turned to Whitley. "What tasks do you want to assign her?"

"Filing," Whitley replied, her tone completely flat. "Since she loves this project so much, she can handle organizing all the paperwork."

Chisholm chuckled. "You're the boss."

Neither of them was stupid enough to put Yelena anywhere near the core operations. Her blatant ambition and ulterior motives were crystal clear to both of them.

-

Later, Whitley walked over with a massive stack of folders and knocked on Yelena's door.

Yelena stood up eagerly. "When are you taking me to see the labs?"

"The labs?" Whitley stared at her. "You wanted an office, you got one. Your job is sorting these files."

Yelena's face darkened instantly. This was a blatant move to ensure she received zero credit or exposure on the project.

At 6:00 PM, the workday ended.

The open-plan office filled with the rustle of packing up. Employees left in small groups, their whispered conversations inevitably drifting toward the tense standoff between Whitley and Yelena that morning.

"The real daughter versus the fake one... talk about drama."

"Sometimes I feel like Whitley comes on a bit too strong. Yelena seems so sweet and pitiful. It's not like she's had an easy life."

"Don't be so sure. Who knows what Yelena is really like behind closed doors? We know Whitley; she doesn't start fights for no reason."

"Who knows? Maybe they're both faking it."

Whitley methodically organized her desk, locking away the sensitive files. She let the gossip wash over her, completely tuning it out.

She grabbed her sleek black leather tote and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Glancing down at the street below, her gaze suddenly locked onto something.