His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 90

The words felt like a knife twisting in her ribs.

Whitley took a deep breath. Did Clive honestly not realize how utterly humiliating this was for her?

Of course he knew. He just didn't care.

She turned, ready to walk out.

She was done playing a prop in this sickening farce.

"Whitley, come over here and welcome Yelena," Clive commanded. His voice cut through the chatter, loud enough to establish their dynamic, though most people were too distracted to catch the exact words.

Whitley didn't even dignify him with a response.

Bringing Yelena to their anniversary was degrading enough.

Expecting her to play the welcoming committee? What did he think she was?

Just as she took a step toward the exit, Vivienne's voice rang out. "Whitley, what are you standing around for? Come sit down."

Vivienne pointed to a small, overflow table in the far corner—a table that wasn't even remotely close to the family seating.

Meanwhile, right at the center of the main table, Yelena had effortlessly slipped into the seat directly beside Clive.

The seating arrangement made the family's stance brutally clear.

From the day Whitley married into the family, not a single Sherwood had ever truly accepted her.

Seeing Whitley frozen in place, Vivienne laughed sharply. "What's the matter? Do we need to send out a formal invitation to get you to sit?"

Clive shot Whitley a freezing, warning glance. His eyes were dark and menacing, silently commanding her to fall in line and stop causing a scene.

Whitley closed her eyes, forcing down the violent surge of emotions threatening to choke her.

She couldn't ruin everything now.

She walked slowly toward the overflow table and sat down, her spine rigid and unbending.

Over at the main table, Clive and Yelena were laughing and chatting with the elders, looking like a picture-perfect couple. The entire room had silently agreed that Yelena was the true Sherwood bride.

Sitting a few seats away was Leroy. He let out a loud, mocking snort, making sure his voice carried. "I've never seen such a pathetic, doormat of a wife."

"You're supposed to be Mrs. Sherwood, yet you're banished to the overflow table. How do you even have the nerve to show your face?"

"If you want to marry into high society, you should at least look in the mirror and see if you're worthy. So what if you schemed your way in? Go ahead, tell everyone you're Mrs. Sherwood. Let's see if a single person believes you."

Whitley raised her eyes, her gaze glacial. "You're wagging your tail so hard, people might mistake you for Yelena's lapdog. An outsider waltzes in and takes the main seat, and you're cheering louder than anyone."

Leroy's face instantly went purple. "What the hell did you just say?!"

He had always hated Whitley. She had stolen his brother from Yelena, and now she actually had the audacity to show up. Even though this dinner was technically for her, he was determined to make her regret stepping foot in the Manor. She truly didn't know her place.

The tension snapped, a screaming match mere seconds away.

Vivienne immediately plastered on a fake smile, smoothly intervening as her eyes zeroed in on Whitley. "Whitley, since you're here, surely you prepared a gift for Bonnie as well? Let everyone see how much you care."

With a single sentence, she directed the entire room's scrutinizing glare right back onto Whitley.

It was a blatant, coordinated effort to watch her burn.