Chapter 1590:


    Everything under his name would be marital property, and Christina, branded a murderer, would be stripped of any inheritance rights. In the end, Bethel’s shares wouldnd neatly in Ynda’s possession without her lifting another finger.


    The realization cooled her urgency. Her voice trembled convincingly, but her movements slowed. She wed at Christina’s arm with just enough force to look desperate. She even lunged forward as if she might bite, her voice rising in shrill imitation of panic.


    Without flinching, Christina shifted her stance, raised her free hand, and caught Ynda by the throat. She lifted her upward just as effortlessly as she had Brendon.


    A collective gasp escaped the guards behind her.


    Christina was formidable. The sight stirred their adrenaline—part of them almost wanted to cheer.


    If Dn had been there, he would have been cheering too—though he’d probably scold her afterward for overexerting herself.


    Brendon and Ynda’s faces twisted in agony, eyes rolling back as they struggled for breath.


    For a moment, they truly felt as if they were standing at the edge of death.


    Then, just as the world began to blur, Christina released them. Both dropped to the floor, clutching their throats as they gasped and coughed, desperate for air.


    Christina crouched before them, her face cold and unfeeling.


    “I have no interest in Bethel’s shares. When she wakes, I’ll have her leave her shares to you. But if you disturb her again, you will regret it.”


    Rising, she turned to the guards. “Stay at your post. No one enters except me.”


    “Yes, Miss Jones,” the guards replied immediately. They hadn’t been touched, yet their necks prickled, and a chill crept down their spines.


    Ynda finally steadied her breathing. She moved closer to help Brendon up, her gaze lingering on the marks around his neck.


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    “Are you alright?” she asked softly.


    Tears glimmered in her eyes as her fingers brushed his bruised skin. “Look at you… your throat is covered in marks.”


    “I’m fine,” he muttered. Watching her cry for him stirred something fragile inside Brendon.


    And when his eyesnded on the livid red welts circling her own neck, a heavy guilt washed over him.


    Without thinking, he drew her into his arms and whispered, “Ynda… you’re too good to me.”


    If only Christina had a fraction of that gentleness—if she could be half as kind as Ynda—he might have found peace. Christina had once been gentle, even amodating. When had she turned so cold, so fierce?


    Especially toward him—there was nothing left of the woman he remembered.


    Did she truly despise him that much? He had already lowered his pride—why couldn’t she let the past go?


    Ynda rested her head against his chest, her expression soft and devoted, though hatred simmered quietly behind her sweet smile.


    “Because you’re my husband,” she said tenderly. “If I’m not good to you, who else would I be good to?”


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