His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 60

"And let's not forget, you were the one who did something filthy first by stealing my fiancé! What right do you have to judge me?"

Whitley felt like she was listening to a bad joke. Her mocking smile deepened, but her eyes turned absolutely glacial.

She did something filthy?

Yelena actually had the nerve to say that out loud. Yelena was the one who had orchestrated that entire disaster years ago. She had set Whitley up because she thought Clive was impotent, and because he kept a low profile at the time, she thought he was poor and beneath her.

Now that Clive was rich, powerful, and wildly successful, Yelena had come crawling back, eagerly throwing herself at him and acting like the tragic victim.

Crossing her arms, Whitley stared at her coldly. "Didn't you set me up because you thought he couldn't get it up?"

"I guess you think he can now?"

Her words were sharp and brutal, slicing right through Yelena’s facade and making her face turn a hideous shade of red.

Just then, Yelena’s eyes darted toward the bedroom doorway. Instantly, the anger vanished, replaced by a panicked, tearful vulnerability.

"Clive, you're here..." she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I swear I didn't do anything. I don't know why she insists on accusing us of these terrible things. Maybe I should just leave so I don't upset her anymore."

Whitley turned her head.

Clive was leaning against the doorframe. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked tall, imposing, and completely emotionless. His dark eyes locked onto Whitley, revealing absolutely nothing.

Whitley’s chest tightened painfully.

She let out a dry laugh. "What’s with that look? Are you here to defend your precious mistress? Should I apologize?"

"You actually came back?" he asked evenly.

Actually came back?

The absurdity of it was suffocating. He was the one who had practically threatened her, forcing her to move back into this house. She was his legal wife. Why wouldn't she be here?

Every word rang out clearly, meant to stab Whitley in the back as she walked away.

Clive really knew how to twist the knife. What horrific sin had she committed in her past life to deserve this kind of torture? To be paraded around like a clown, over and over again?

She didn't expect him to come after her.

She reached the front door. The rain was still coming down in sheets, the sky pitch black.

Standing alone in the freezing night, she stared out at the storm.

The tragic joke of it all was that she had nowhere left to go. She was completely adrift.

A second later, a firm grip clamped down on her wrist. The sudden heat burned against her freezing skin.

Frowning, she turned her head—just as Clive, without a single word, scooped her effortlessly into his arms.