His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 47

Her tone was icy and blunt, leaving no room for Clive's ego.

"But instead, you forced her into my project team. You shoved her right under my nose, and now you have the nerve to sit there and demand to know if I bullied her?"

Whitley stared him down. "Clive, ask yourself honestly—didn't you send her to my department knowing exactly what would happen? Are you really that dense?"

She knew exactly how his mind worked, and she understood corporate politics perfectly.

Clive might wield immense power, but they operated in entirely different spheres. He had no authority to dictate her staffing. Even if he wanted to play knight in shining armor for Yelena, overstepping into Whitley's domain was a massive overreach—a move that would only damage his own flawless reputation and control.

Clive stared at her in silence. The heavy, oppressive quiet filled the room.

Whitley couldn't be bothered to waste another breath on him. She turned on her heel, walked straight into the guest bedroom, and locked the door to get some sleep.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten as Whitley finished getting ready for work. Dressed in a sharp, tailored suit with impeccable makeup, her eyes remained as cold and distant as ever.

The moment she stepped out of the building, she saw the familiar black Maybach idling by the curb.

Clive was leaning against the car door, wearing a dark trench coat. He usually drove this car himself when he wasn't on official business.

Seeing her, he straightened up and gestured slightly with his chin. "Get in."

Whitley paused, her brow furrowing. "?"

He didn't offer an explanation. He just opened the passenger door and stated flatly, "We're going to pick up Yelena. You're going to apologize to her."

It hit her instantly. His silence last night wasn't a truce. He had already made up his mind that he was going to force her to bow her head to Yelena.

Whitley found the sheer audacity of it laughable. "Apologize for what exactly?"

"You claim to hate me, yet you still slept with me. So much for your legendary self-control."

Clive's dark eyes locked onto hers. He fell silent for a long moment.

Whitley scoffed. "What, nothing to say?"

"Now that I want out, now that I want to step aside and let you two be together, you refuse to let me go. Yet you still bend over backward to protect her. What is this, Clive? Do you want to keep us both on the hook? Well, I find it disgusting. Do you understand?"

Whitley took a deep breath. "You asked me before if I knew I had a husband. Of course I know. But what about you, Clive? Do you even know you have a wife? Do you know who she is? Is it me, or is it her?"

Clive stared at her. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"How else am I supposed to think?" Whitley shot back. "I'm not apologizing. If you want to play her protector, that's your problem."

Without waiting for a response, she turned around, got into her own car, and drove off, completely indifferent to whatever expression he was making.