Chapter 518:
The next day, Brendon’s assistant burst into the office, soaked in sweat and pale-faced. “Mr. Dawson! Bad news—the stock’s crashing!”
“What?” Brendon jumped up, slamming his hand on the desk. “What happened?”
“Several audio recordings are circulating online about your property division with your ex-wife. People are accusing you of breaking promises and losing credibility…”
The assistant placed a tablet on the desk and played the recordings. The audio clips captured Brendon promising divorce compensation, followed by his later remarks about forcing Christina to walk away with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Brendon’s face turned red with fury. His hands clenched into fists. This cunning ex-wife of his had been plotting against him all along! So it was true—Christina had always been after the Dawson family’s wealth.
“Mr. Dawson, what should we do?” the assistant asked, trembling.
Brendon drew a slow breath. His voice turned cold. “Issue a legal notice. Call it slander. Say the recordings are fake. Anyone spreading it gets sued.”
“Understood!” The assistant ran out.
Brendon grabbed his phone and dialed Christina. But the call wouldn’t go through.
“Christina blocked me?” he shouted. His hand shook with rage. The next second, he hurled the phone against the wall.
His mind raced back to the hospital room—Christina’s calm voice, asking again and again if he truly meant to leave her with nothing. So, she had been plotting revenge all along.
Then—sharp knocks on the door.
Brendon drew a breath, straightened his back. “Come in.”
“Brendon…” Yolanda stepped in, her arm bandaged, carrying a steaming container. “I made you this soup. It’s still warm,” she said softly.
Brendon was in no mood for her distraction, but when he saw Yolanda’s injured arm and her gentle, thoughtful gesture, he couldn’t bring himself to lash out at her. After all, she had risked her life to shield him during last night’s car crash, leaving her arm badly injured.
“Leave it there. I’ll take it later,” he muttered, sinking into his chair.
“Are you okay?” Yolanda asked gently, stepping closer.
“Just a headache,” Brendon replied.
“Let me help,” she said, moving behind him. Her fingers touched his temples—warm, careful, comforting. “Better?” she asked quietly.
He closed his eyes. The tension started to ease. “Yes,” he said.
Her hands moved lower, slow and soft, to his collarbone. “Brendon, it’s been so long since we shared a moment together…”
Bang!
Yolanda’s fingers were inches from slipping beneath Brendon’s shirt when the office door burst open without warning, shattering the mood in an instant. Instinctively, Yolanda jerked her hand back, shooting a sharp glare toward the source of the interruption. Composure quickly returned as she softened her tone. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”
Panic flooded the assistant’s voice as he blurted out, “It’s urgent! Someone is buying up our company’s shares at an alarming rate!”
Shock launched Brendon out of his chair, his palm cracking down on the desk in anger.
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