?Chapter 1562:


    She pulled up the surveince feed. There they were—her hired men. They had mixed up the targets, drugging Brendon instead of Robin and sending him upstairs.


    Vickie’s rage turned white-hot. She could have killed them for botching something so simple.


    At this point, she almost wished they had at least sent Robin to her room.


    He disgusted her too—but his status would’ve been a hell of a lot easier to stomach than Brendon’s.


    Five percent of the shares was a joke—nowhere near enough to satisfy Ynda.


    She didn’t respond. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, her expression trembling on the edge of copse.


    “Brendon,” Katie said gently, “take her out tomorrow. Buy her some jewelry. You have to prove you actually care.”


    It was the only advice she could muster. Still, she had to admit this entire mess wasn’t entirely her brother’s fault. He’d been drugged, his senses stolen from him.


    But no woman could stayposed after something like this, and Katie’s heart genuinely ached for Ynda.


    The only hope now was for her brother to win Ynda back. If he failed, their marriage might not recover.


    Brendon reached for Ynda, his voice low and remorseful. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. Whatever catches your eye, it’s yours.”


    “I just need some time to breathe,” Ynda replied, pushing him away with perfect grace—ying the wounded wife wlessly—as she turned and walked upstairs alone.


    Watching her fragile figure retreat up the steps, Brendon’s guilt deepened, pressing heavy on his chest. He exhaled a weary sigh.


    As long as Ynda forgave him, he’d shower her with anything she wanted—money, gifts, whatever it took.


    “Brendon, don’t just stand there like a statue. Go after her,” Katie urged, giving him a firm push.


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    Snapping out of his daze, Brendon hurried up the stairs.


    Watching him finally move, Katie allowed herself a faint breath of relief.


    She could only hope he managed to soothe Ynda’s hurt. Thest thing she wanted was another woman stepping into the Dawson family. Ynda treated her well—who knew if anyone else ever would?


    Without Ynda, this household would crumble sooner orter.


    The following afternoon, Vickie showed up at the Scott Group headquarters carrying a box of delicate handmade pastries.


    “Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist intercepted her with a polite smile.


    “No, I don’t. Could you call Dn for me? Just tell him that Vickie Cullen’s here to see him,” she said smoothly.


    Vickie had expected her name to spark recognition—or even envy.


    After all, with all the gossip about Dn keeping every woman at arm’s length, she was the only one anyone ever whispered might actually be his future wife.


    Unfortunately, the receptionist was new—andpletely oblivious to social rumors. She stuck to protocol with unwavering professionalism.


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