?Chapter 1594:


    The client no longer wanted to coborate with the Dawson Group—not even on minor deals. They had made it clear they would work exclusively with that smallpany now. It wasn’t about him—the Dawson family must have crossed the wrong person.


    Brendon let out a sharp, bitterugh. “If they don’t want to work with us, fine. I’ll find new clients. I don’t need anyone’s charity. When that littlepany runs them into the ground, they’lle crawling back—and when they do, my terms won’t be nearly as generous.”


    The manager’s lips twitched, but he stayed silent.


    If he dared suggest that Brendon’s own arrogance had caused this, he’d be out of a job before he could blink. He had aging parents and kids to feed—losing this job wasn’t an option.


    “Go on, you can leave,” Brendon said with a dismissive wave, his tone clipped.


    The manager bowed his head and hurried out, leaving Brendon slumped in his chair.


    Brendon’s chest rose and fell heavilytely, even breathing felt like work. Everything seemed to drain him these days—his energy, his patience, his strength.


    The office door swung open. Brendon nced up, irritation written across his face—until he saw Ynda.


    He immediately straightened, took a quiet breath topose himself, and crossed the room with a faint smile.


    “What brings you here?” he asked softly, noticing the insted lunch container in her hand. “You’ve brought food for me again?”


    “Yes.” Ynda said, her lips curving into a pleasant smile as she set the container neatly on his desk. “You don’t look very happy. Who’s been giving you trouble?”


    “No one,” Brendon murmured, rubbing his temples, fatigue roughening his voice. “There’s just been too much going on at thepanytely. I guess it’s wearing me down.”


    He kept his tone light, careful not to mention that a small, insignificant startup had stolen their project—it was too humiliating to admit.


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    “Have some Beef Bourguignon first. I made it especially for you.”


    Ynda spooned the food into a bowl and ced it in front of Brendon, a subtle glint of malice shimmering in her eyes.


    Brendon took the bowl from her, tasted a spoonful, and let out a quiet chuckle. “Not bad at all. The beef bourguignon’s delicious.”


    “Then have some more. I’ll make it for you every day,” Ynda replied with a tender smile.


    Beneath that sweetnessy a cruel intent. The dish had beenced with a slow-acting, umtive poison—so subtle he would never detect what was slowly iming his life.


    A dull ache stirred in Ynda’s chest, and for a fleeting moment, regret flickered in her eyes.


    If only Brendon hadn’t betrayed her. If his heart hadn’t strayed, they might have grown old together.


    But he was the one who shattered everything. He had married her, yet his affections drifted to Christina. If she couldn’t have him, no one would.


    Ynda pressed down the turmoil rising inside her, her hands sping tightly as if sealing away everyst shred of hesitation.


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