His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 92

Clive's eyes dropped to the Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

His brow furrowed sharply, and the temperature around him seemed to plummet.

The surrounding guests glued their eyes to the scene, whispers rippling through the room. The atmosphere became agonizingly tense.

Vivienne's face was white with fury, while Leroy watched with an expression of contemptuous amusement. Yelena stood off to the side, a flash of surprise darting through her eyes before she smoothed her features back into a picture of gentle elegance.

Clive didn't even touch the document. He simply looked up and gave his assistant a subtle nod. "Put it away."

The assistant immediately stepped forward and swiftly collected the petition, his brisk movements treating it like a piece of offensive trash.

He leveled his gaze at Whitley, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Must you throw a tantrum on our anniversary?"

Whitley's chest tightened. Years of suppressed anger surged upward, making her fingertips tremble. She was seconds away from tearing the whole facade down right then and there.

But just as she opened her mouth, Clive leaned in a fraction of an inch closer. "Don't forget about Winona."

Those few quiet words slammed into her like a steel cage, instantly locking away her fury.

Winona was still in the hospital, her condition fragile. The Sherwoods held entirely too much leverage over her care.

Whitley could afford to be reckless with herself, but she couldn't gamble with her grandmother's safety just to vent her anger.

"I'll give you an explanation when the banquet is over," he added.

His tone was completely devoid of emotion, yet it carried an unbearable weight of authority.

Whitley curled her hands into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping her grounded.

She tilted her head up, letting out a barely audible, bitter laugh.

In the end, she forced her boiling temper back down.

The eyes of the entire room were still fixed on her—some sympathetic, some amused, some disgusted.

Whitley sat perfectly still, her face a blank mask.

This was how he humiliated her.

Who could she blame?

She could only blame herself for being weak, for having once loved him so deeply.

The dramatic spectacle concluded there.

A few moments later, the dinner resumed.

Even though it was a gathering of relatives, everyone there was deeply entrenched in business. Seeing Yelena present, guests flocked over with their glasses raised to toast her.

She had shone brightly in major recent projects and was constantly brought along by Clive to high-profile events. Everyone in the industry knew Yelena was a rising star.

More importantly, she was the woman Clive valued above all others, meaning there was no shortage of people eager to curry her favor.

Yelena welcomed them all, navigating the crowd with effortless grace. Surrounded by admirers, she looked radiant and entirely in her element.

Seeing that she was drinking quite a bit, Clive stepped forward and smoothly pulled her behind him. He took her glass and fielded the toasts himself, downing several drinks in a row on her behalf.

"Yelena is a lightweight. Do me a favor and stop pressuring her to drink," he said.

"So protective of her," someone teased.

Looking at the unyielding storm and realizing she had no practical way to leave, Whitley hesitated for a moment before preparing to nod.

Beside them, Clive suddenly looked at her. His tone was flat, completely devoid of emotion. "Stay. We need to discuss the divorce later."

Whitley was momentarily taken aback.

Since she fully intended to sever this marriage once and for all, she simply nodded and agreed.

She stayed at the manor, waiting quietly for him to return so they could finalize the details of their split.

She thought he had just stepped out briefly and would be back momentarily.

But as she waited, time dragged on, and he never appeared.

Much later, Bridget Sherwood returned from outside with an umbrella. Catching sight of Whitley standing under the covered walkway, Bridget's lips curled into a mocking smile as she strolled over.

"Whitley, are you still waiting for Clive?"

Whitley gave her a cool glance but remained silent.

Bridget was Clive's younger sister, only a year his junior, and was already married herself.

Bridget's smirk widened. "I'm afraid you're waiting for nothing."

"Clive just left. He went to drive Yelena home personally."

"In this horrible weather, all she had to say was that it was inconvenient, and he immediately went with her. He didn't spare a single thought for whatever arrangement he made with you."

Whitley's fingertips tightened against her palms. A sharp, needle-like pain pierced her heart, and her breathing grew noticeably heavier.