His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 70

Clive stood watching.

A sudden smirk crossed his face.

Whitley was truly horrendous at this game—awful to her very core.

She didn't memorize the tiles, didn't calculate probabilities, and didn't even try to read her opponents. She was just throwing pieces out blindly, hoping for the best.

The player before her would discard a tile, and she'd immediately toss the exact same one right back. It was painful to watch.

Clive leaned casually against the back of her chair. At over six feet tall, his presence was naturally imposing, yet he radiated a laid-back, lazy energy.

He lowered his gaze, scanning the tiles in Whitley's hand, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "She just played that one, and you're handing it right back? Idiot."

Whitley pressed her lips into a tight line and said nothing. She quietly swapped the tile she was about to play, cursing Clive a thousand times in her head.

If he was so smart, why didn't he just play himself?

Clive didn't say much else. He stood quietly beside her, occasionally leaning down to murmur a single, incredibly precise instruction at the perfect moment. His few words were devastatingly effective.

Within a few rounds, her disastrous losing streak completely reversed. Not only did she win back everything she had lost, but she started raking in a massive profit.

The women who had been smugly taking her money earlier watched their chip piles vanish.

Their expressions shifted from triumphant to a sickly, irritated pale. They were furious but entirely powerless to stop the bleeding.

For the first time, Whitley felt an unprecedented rush of satisfaction.

She finally understood the thrill of winning, and why these wealthy socialites were so obsessed with the game.

She was genuinely having a blast.

She also had to admit, Clive's mind was terrifyingly sharp. He was cold, analytical, and could instantly spot the winning strategy, effortlessly dominating the board.

For a split second, she almost believed he had stepped in to help her exact revenge.

Standing off to the side, Yelena was completely frozen. She knew they were just acting, but it still tore her apart.

Watching Whitley smugly collect the cash felt like a knife twisting in her gut.

Gritting her teeth, she forced a weak, trembling voice. "I... I think my stomach is acting up."

Clive looked at her, his gaze instantly softening, his tone gentle. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Seeing this, Vivienne's expression darkened, and she immediately cut in.

"Clive, your wife is sitting right here. Are you seriously suggesting you'll take her? If Yelena isn't feeling well, have Cole drive her. You are staying here with us."

Yelena's eyes immediately welled with tears. Looking at Clive with utter heartbreak, her voice cracked. "Clive..."

Clive checked his watch, his voice cool and entirely unreadable. "Go with Cole. Get some rest. Once I'm done here, I'll come check on you."