Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 175

Madeline slowly drifted awake, her head pounding terribly as she shook off the grogginess and pushed herself up to look around; the room was pitch black, deliberately kept dark to help her rest, and she found herself lying in a massive, unfamiliar bed inside the most luxurious suite she had ever seen.

Had she been hallucinating earlier? She could have sworn she heard someone ask, "Haven't you been dying to see me?"

The one person she had desperately wanted to meet was the mysterious Mr. Prescott who had been protecting her from the shadows.

She climbed out of the gray bed, noticing that the sprawling room held only one plush armchair positioned near her side.

Madeline sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

Her body felt incredibly heavy, as if she had taken a severe beating, and the memory of being viciously attacked at the Whitman Estate by Liliana's ruthless grandmother came flooding back.

She had thought she was fine and managed to drive all the way home, but the injuries were clearly serious, otherwise she wouldn't have woken up in a strange place with no idea how much time had passed.

She suspected the sheer force of the assault had given her a severe concussion, and delaying medical attention had only worsened her condition, though she could feel she had already been treated; while she wasn't perfectly fine, the worst of the pain had subsided.

She no longer felt nauseous or dizzy.

Suddenly, the bed swayed gently, and she realized she was aboard a massive ship.

Just then, the door clicked open.

A dark shadow slipped into the room.

Madeline's heart skipped a beat as the creature's deep blue eyes gleamed in the darkness like stars—it was a black panther.

Her pulse raced; what was a panther doing here?

Instinctive fear paralyzed her.

Madeline was absolutely stunned the first time she laid eyes on his face; it wasn't just handsome, it was transcendent.

His sharp, deep-set features carried a hint of maturity and grit, yet his jawline was sleek and refined, creating an ultimate blend of rugged dominance and striking elegance that practically radiated tension.

The man walked over and sat in the chair facing her, his posture exuding the effortless, commanding authority of a natural predator.

Madeline curled her fingers nervously and took the initiative to ask, "Hello. Are you... Mr. Prescott?"

"Quentin Prescott."

Madeline's eyes widened in shock.

She had never imagined that this man was the Chairman of Thunderbolt Capital; ever since she had secured funding from his top executive, Sebastian St. John, she had researched the world's largest investment firm and learned it was founded by Quentin, a man whose wealth and power were beyond human comprehension.