Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 299

Madeline instinctively gripped Quentin's sleeve. He glanced down at her and smoothly enveloped her entire hand within his palm.

"Scared?"

"No." Madeline shook her head, paused, and then added honestly, "Maybe a little."

Quentin gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

He didn't offer any comforting words, but his hand never let go.

The car stopped in front of an iron gate at the end of the mountain road.

The gate was rusted and looked like the entrance to an abandoned factory, but two bodyguards in suits stood on either side.

The noticeable bulges at their waists made it obvious they were packing heat.

General Diallo, who had accompanied them, stepped out and exchanged a few words with them in the local dialect.

The iron gate slowly pulled open from the inside, and a blinding white light poured out, illuminating half the hillside.

The world behind the gate was completely different from the desolation outside.

It was a massive domed space, decorated like the private club of a Middle Eastern oil tycoon—crystal chandeliers hung from the ten-meter-high ceiling.

Gold leaf adorned the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of cigars and whiskey.

Dozens of round tables were scattered across the hall. Each table was laden with raw stones—some large, some small, some dull and inconspicuous, while others already hinted at a vibrant green under the lights.

Buyers from all over the globe crowded around the tables. There were Middle Easterners in white robes, Europeans in sharp suits, and a few Asian faces.

Every buyer was flanked by assistants and bodyguards, conversing in low tones and sizing each other up.

General Diallo led them to a reserved round table in the center of the hall.

Over a dozen raw stones were already displayed on the table, ranging in size from a basketball to a mere fist.

Next to each stone lay a price tag. The number of zeros behind the digits made Madeline count twice before she could believe her eyes—even the cheapest piece started in the six-figure USD range.

She noticed that the color and texture of each stone's crust were different. Some were as rough as sandpaper, while others were as smooth as river pebbles.

Among them was a piece sitting in the corner, about the size of two fists. Its crust was a dull, unremarkable gray, and its asking price wasn't particularly high.

But next to it was a small line of English text: "The Zenith Mines. Shaved, no color visible."

Generally speaking, "shaved, no color visible" meant that the stone had already been cut into, but no green was found. The risk was incredibly high, which was why it was tossed in the corner, completely ignored.

A few buyers passing by glanced at it and walked away shaking their heads. One even muttered something to his companion in a mocking tone.

But Madeline noticed a detail—there was a faint, nearly invisible mineral striation on the crust of the stone.

Out of boredom on the flight, she had flipped through an emerald magazine Quentin had casually tossed on his seat. It featured an article specifically about mineral striations and pine-flower patterns.

She had only skimmed it for entertainment, never expecting it would actually come in handy now.

A mineral striation was a pattern on the crust of a raw emerald stone, shaped like a winding snake, which often served as an indicator of color inside.