His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 50

The man didn't immediately walk toward her. Instead, he reached into the back seat, pulled out a heavy black trench coat, and draped it casually over his arm before stepping into the drizzle.

The misty rain caught in his dark hair, adding a faint, damp sheen. But rather than making him look unkempt, it only gave him a striking, almost cinematic allure.

"The wind is freezing, and it's raining. Why didn't you wait inside?"

Before Whitley could even process the question, Clive raised the coat and settled it gently over her shoulders.

The oversized fabric completely engulfed her, carrying the lingering warmth of his body and his signature, crisp cedarwood scent.

The fragrance wrapped around her with every breath she took, so intoxicatingly gentle it was easy to get lost in it.

For a split second, Whitley felt a terrifying wave of déjà vu.

It felt just like the early days, back when they were truly in love. He would carefully wrap her in his jacket, shield her from the rain, and pour every ounce of his devotion into her.

It felt as though he was still the same Clive who held her above all else, cherishing her as his most prized possession.

But the very next second, a harsh, frozen voice in the back of her mind shattered the illusion.

No.

This was all just part of the act.

Clive's greatest talent was his ability to wear a mask. As a man who navigated the highest echelons of power, he had mastered the art of concealing his true thoughts. He could summon any emotion on demand and execute it flawlessly.

Gentleness, concern, devotion, affection—the very things normal people only gave when they truly loved someone—were nothing more than tools in his arsenal, deployed effortlessly when the situation required it.

He could play the part so perfectly that he fooled everyone around him. Once upon a time, he had even fooled her.

If she hadn't seen him with her own eyes—escorting Yelena to her prenatal appointment, breaking his strict rule of public distance to physically carry Yelena in a crowded hospital—she might have still believed him.

This was Esther's property. With its deep courtyards and classic architecture, the estate exuded a sense of quiet, generational wealth.

Tonight, however, the driveway was packed with luxury vehicles. The guest list consisted of old family friends and high-society elites. The air buzzed with laughter and animated conversation.

Clive stepped out first, walked around the car, and smoothly opened the door for Whitley. He placed a steady hand on her waist, guiding her out.

His movements were so effortlessly intimate that no one could have found a single flaw.

Whitley walked beside him into the grand foyer. The room was already crowded. The moment they stepped inside, warm smiles and greetings rippled through the guests.

"Clive, Whitley! So glad you made it."

"Look at you two. You make such a stunning couple."

Clive offered polite, measured nods, responding to every greeting with a warm, aristocratic grace. He was the picture of perfection, entirely without flaw.