?Chapter 1414:


    “First, I want half of your shares. Second, I want the CEO’s seat,” Christina stated. Brendon knew instantly these were impossible demands.


    Seeing his face fall, her smile widened, almost teasing.


    “See? The second I state my terms, you sulk. You can’t even manage these two, and you said you’d ept more,” she said lightly.


    Anger red in Brendon’s chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. He struggled to keep his voice steady, though frustration crept in.


    “Those aren’t conditions—you’re basically stealing from me,” he snapped.


    He nearly called her crazy but swallowed it, forcing a controlled tone instead.


    “Those are my only two terms. Take them or leave them,” Christina said, fully aware of his likely refusal. She knew he’d never ept them, and this way, he wouldn’t keep returning, begging her to change her mind.


    Brendon’s anger surged when he saw his grandmother still smiling, her eyes full of approval toward Christina.


    “Grandma, it’s bad enough you won’t support me—why are you smiling?” he demanded, irritation clear in his voice.


    “I’m smiling because you brought this on yourself,” Bethel said quietly, without a hint of anger.


    She had warned him before that he would regret his choices—and now, it seemed that day hade. If he had treated Christina properly back then, the Dawson family might have been thriving. But he had been blind—too blind to see who truly mattered.


    When Bethel imagined the Dawson family’s slow fall, a soft, aching sadness sank into her chest.


    “Grandma, if you can’t be helpful, then shut up,” Brendon snapped, his brow drawn in irritation.


    Bethel gave him a frosty look, gripped Christina’s hand, and barked, “Someone, please show our guest out!”


    The family’s butler moved forward immediately, bowing slightly as he gestured to the door. “This way, Mr. Dawson.”


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    Brendon’s face went dark as he clenched his jaw, struggling to control his temper. He froze in ce, his gaze locked on them. Neither of them nced his way—inly, they had no ns to ask him to stay for dinner.


    “I want—” Brendon began, but Bethel’s hard voice interrupted him. “No. You don’t.”


    “Grandma…” Brendon called, his voice small and pleading.


    “Leave, or I’ll have the guards drag you out.” Bethel’s tone brooked no argument—every word was final.


    Brendon knew resisting was pointless; his grandmother never spoke lightly. If the guards did throw him out, the humiliation would be worse. With no choice, he left the Dawson estate—reluctant, head low, burning with shame.


    Outside the gates, Brendon’s face was a knot of tangled feelings. Thinking of Christina, he tugged at his tie in frustrated anger. Christina had grown colder each day; whatever he tried, her eyes stayed calm—unmoved and out of reach.


    As he climbed into his car and drove off, he didn’t see the white Maserati parked quietly in the nearby corner. Ynda sat in the driver’s seat, eyes rimmed red, staring at Brendon’s retreating figure as a sharp pain twisted through her chest. Her hands tightened on the wheel, tendons standing out with strain.


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