His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 65

Whitley stepped into the room. "Vivienne, I can go to my checkup on my own tomorrow. There's no need for you to trouble yourself. You should stay home and rest."

Vivienne, who was taking another sip of her tea, raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely not."

"You're fragile as it is. We can't be careless with this checkup. You need someone with you to make sure everything is thoroughly checked, so we can act fast if there are any issues."

Whitley frowned.

She knew her mother-in-law too well—she seemed polite, but her word was law. Once Vivienne made up her mind, arguing was pointless.

Instead of fighting it, Whitley needed an excuse Vivienne couldn't refuse, one that would naturally get her out of this unwanted supervision.

She looked up with a soft smile. "Since you're so worried, why don't I have Clive come with me? He's home anyway, so it works out perfectly."

In reality, Whitley knew full well that Clive was currently holding a major government position, drowning in meetings and paperwork. There was zero chance he'd have time to go to the hospital with her.

And even if he did have time, he'd spend it with Yelena.

Never her.

Vivienne, completely unsuspicious, nodded in agreement. "That works."

"Clive is your husband; accompanying you is his job anyway. It wouldn't make sense for your mother-in-law to tag along. You two hardly see each other as it is; you should use this time to bond."

They made small talk for a while as more ladies arrived—all prominent figures in the Sherwoods' elite social circle.

Mrs. Weaver and Mrs. Landon took their seats, and the suite buzzed with chatter. Someone suggested setting up a card game to pass the time, and the others eagerly agreed.

The staff quickly set up the table, the sharp, crisp clatter of shuffling tiles filling the room.

She was trapped at the table, unable to back out.

Sensing her hesitation, Vivienne casually drew a tile. "What are you worried about? If you really lose, I'll just call Clive and have him wire you the money. Do you really think he'd let you embarrass yourself in front of everyone?"

Mrs. Weaver laughed, pinching a tile between her fingers as she looked at Vivienne. "Clive really is incredible. Becoming a deputy secretary at his age—he's exceptionally successful."

"I heard he's not planning on taking any more overseas posts now that he's back?"

"Who knows," Vivienne said, tossing a tile onto the table, her eyes darting toward Whitley. "Those two keep their private lives very quiet. Has he mentioned anything to you, Whitley?"

Whitley kept a faint, polite smile on her face and shook her head. "He's always so busy. He doesn't talk much about work when he comes home, and I don't pry."

Mrs. Weaver gave a knowing nod. "That makes sense. His job at the Foreign Office is highly classified; he can't just talk about it with anyone. You have to be understanding, Whitley."