Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 262

But she was also afraid of him, trying to please him, clinging to him, and demanding his help and protection.

Yet, in the end, she had never truly treated him as her partner.

"I saw that you didn't reply, so I made the choice for you and warmed up some milk. Do you want it?"

Quentin didn't look up, his voice muffled as he finally stepped out of the shadows.

For some reason, Madeline felt an incredibly heavy, chilling aura rolling off him today.

She quickly stepped forward. "Why didn't you call out to me? How long have you been here?"

He didn't elaborate, only replying, "A little while."

"I'm so sorry. I was thinking about some work-related issues and got completely absorbed. You must have been waiting forever."

Madeline moved closer, proactively reaching out to take the milk from his hands.

The milk had completely lost its warmth, even though Quentin had specifically heated it up just for her.

It proved that he really had been waiting for a long time. Madeline drank it all.

After setting the empty mug down, she stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around Quentin's waist.

The woman's tender gesture significantly softened the dark, gloomy emotions swirling inside him.

But he still slowly pushed her away.

"Go put on a coat. I'm taking you outside."

Deep inside the core of the yacht, Madeline had no idea what the temperature was like outside.

But she could guess, remembering how fiercely the wind had whipped across the deck the other day.

The temperature had to be freezing, and even the man's heavy clothing starkly contrasted with hers.

Madeline's room was climate-controlled and incredibly comfortable.

So she was only wearing a light, elegant dress. Although Quentin hadn't lost his temper, the fact that he was taking her outside made her sense that something was wrong.

Grabbing a thick cashmere shawl, she returned to his side. "Mr. Prescott, are you mad at me?"

Madeline grasped his hand; it was large, perfectly proportioned, with long fingers that felt slightly cold to the touch.

"No," Quentin blurted out immediately, though there was a slight pause in his voice, making it sound painfully stiff.

"Is it because I forgot you were coming over today, or because I didn't reply to your messages?"

Madeline's tone was incredibly soft, almost as if she were coaxing him.

She had stirred up that agonizing sensation, letting it wrap around him like a suffocating nightmare.

"Mr. Prescott, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

Madeline gently hugged his waist from behind, her voice dropping to a low, sweet murmur.

Filled with apology and a desire to soothe him, she promised, "Next time, I'll definitely reply to your messages right away, and I promise I will never forget anything you say again."

"What did you just call me?"

Quentin froze in sheer disbelief.

The woman had constantly referred to him as 'Mr. Prescott'.

It was a title full of respect and politeness, yet it maintained a subtle, agonizing distance between them.

"Mr. Prescott..."

"Call me by my name."

Madeline paused, startled, but Quentin turned around, raising his arms to pull her firmly against his chest.

Resting his jaw gently against her forehead, his voice was both burning with intensity and incredibly soft.