Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 249

Madeline followed Quentin out onto the sprawling deck of the yacht.

In the dead of night, the ocean looked like a vast black curtain, utterly dark, mysterious, and violently churning.

It looked hungry enough to swallow a person whole.

Madeline had never realized that the ocean, which looked so wildly romantic by day,

could feel so menacing and terrifying by night.

She instinctively stepped closer to Quentin's imposing frame.

He assumed she was shivering from the cold.

The ocean breeze was biting.

Though the seasoned captain navigated the waves with effortless stability.

Afraid she would catch a chill, Quentin swiftly shrugged off his heavy trench coat and draped it firmly around her shoulders.

Swallowed by his massive coat, the biting wind vanished instantly.

Their colossal yacht seemed to be the only vessel out on the endless black water.

Radiating brilliant, dazzling light, it was a floating palace of extreme luxury.

"Bring them up."

At Quentin's icy command,

Milo and Grant were mercilessly dragged onto the deck.

Milo was moaning in absolute agony; his shattered bones hadn't received a lick of medical attention.

Grant had been beaten into an unrecognizable pulp, his face a horrifying mask of blood and swelling.

Yet Quentin's expression didn't so much as flicker.

He looked as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather, as if this brutal scene was nothing short of standard procedure.

Madeline pulled the heavy coat tighter around herself.

She knew these two deserved everything coming to them.

She had warned Milo earlier that laying a hand on her would end in his complete destruction.

The fool had naively believed Grant's backing would protect him.

But now, looking at Grant, who was in infinitely worse shape than him, he finally grasped the magnitude of his fatal mistake.

The second Milo caught sight of Madeline, he dragged himself forward.

Enveloped in his arms, she breathed in the intoxicating, masculine scent of his cologne.

This level of raw tenderness was something she had never associated with a man as dangerous as him.

She certainly never thought she'd be the one to receive it.

He had always been so impossibly cold, so utterly untouchable.

He used to corner her with ruthless demands about a past she couldn't even remember.

So she had convinced herself he simply didn't know how to be soft.

Yet today, he had been nothing but gentle, holding her with such fierce devotion.

Treating her battered hands with such meticulous care.

And now, steadying her trembling form against his unyielding strength.

In this very moment, his role as her absolute protector had materialized into undeniable reality.

Quentin noticed Milo was terrorizing her.

His eyes darkened slightly, and he gave a nonchalant command.