Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 277

Lucius sat in stunned silence, unable to immediately refute the claim; in fact, he couldn't find a single logical flaw in the argument.

He knew perfectly well that she was a shallow gold digger.

He never denied her greed, but he had never imagined she possessed such a terrifying apathy toward human life.

She had always played the role of a tender-hearted angel in his presence.

Though, looking back, her charity was strictly verbal.

She constantly claimed she would open an orphanage if she had the funds.

Yet in reality, whenever she encountered anyone struggling.

Her instinctive reaction was naked disgust, and she certainly never offered a dime to help.

His own memories of the incident suddenly felt disturbingly hazy.

How exactly had he concluded she was his savior?

When he regained consciousness on the riverbank, he only caught a glimpse of his rescuer's back as she jumped into a car; he had memorized the license plate, quickly tracing it back to the Prescotts' exclusive, custom-built vehicle.

So when he saw her being chauffeured in that very car, he blindly connected the dots and crowned her his savior.

But analyzing it critically now, the entire timeline was glaringly suspect—she was far too young.

She was several years younger than Madeline; calculating back eighteen years, she would have been practically a toddler, making the physical rescue utterly impossible.

It was a fundamental lapse in logic that he had carelessly ignored for years.

He had staked his entire conviction on a single luxury car.

And she had not only happily claimed the title, but aggressively milked the story to drain his bank accounts.

Still, he couldn't entirely dismiss her; she was officially recognized as the only Prescott Heiress, the sole young girl authorized to ride in that vehicle at the time.

He needed to dig up the truth and investigate every detail.

His gaze darkened with sudden sorrow. "Madeline has been avoiding me for so long... does she really hate me that much? If she truly loved me, why couldn't she be just a little more patient with me?"

He dialed a heavily encrypted number.

The call connected after two rings.

The line was dead silent, save for the faint, rhythmic ticking of a vintage grandfather clock in the background.

The sound echoed with an eerie calm, hinting at a sprawling, ancient estate.

"We have a situation," Elias murmured in a low tone.

His delivery was perfectly steady. "The young lady has been arrested."

Silence stretched across the line for several seconds.

The clock continued its relentless ticking—one, two, three.

Then, an elderly voice resonated through the receiver, commanding and absolute, dripping with the unquestionable authority of a titan. "Which young lady?"

"The one you asked me to observe, sir," he clarified with a slight pause.