Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 398

Terrence sat at the head of the grand banquet table.

Beside him sat a woman with a deeply regal aura. Her hair was completely white but incredibly thick and radiant, styled in elegant curls and pinned back with a vintage clip.

Throughout the entire meal, however, Doris York's attitude was ice-cold.

After dinner, Tristan made a suggestion: "Madeline, that tea-whisking ceremony you performed at your place last time was so fascinating, and the tea was incredible. Would you mind showing us again? My grandfather has been dying to try it."

Madeline was mildly surprised. It was just a casual hobby of hers; she hadn't expected Tristan to bring it up so specifically.

Just as she was about to agree, a sullen Penelope voiced her displeasure. "Tristan, I don't understand why you keep bringing this up. What's the big deal? Just hire a barista. It's basically the same thing as latte art, isn't it?"

Terrence shut her down instantly. "Penelope, this is an intangible cultural heritage. Do you think just any barista can master it?"

His eyes turned to Madeline, shining with anticipation. "Can you really perform the traditional tea-whisking, Ms. Monroe? This old man would love to see it!"

Madeline nodded and stepped up to the tea table. To her surprise, a complete set of the specialized tools she needed was already laid out in front of Terrence's seat.

She executed every step meticulously, unhurried, her hand movements utterly elegant and fluid.

Soon, a rich, complex tea fragrance bloomed and filled the room.

Terrence had invited countless tea masters in his time.

Yet Madeline was, without a doubt, the most skilled he had ever witnessed.

Setting aside her perfect control of pressure and the fluid flexibility of her wrists, simply watching her graceful hands at work was a beautiful experience in itself.

But more than anything, she looked exactly like the woman who had whisked tea for him in his youth.

Perhaps the specific facial features had faded into the depths of a fifty-year-old memory, but the silhouette, the posture, the fingers, and the technique were identical.

Initially, Terrence had expected Liliana to possess traces of that woman.

But for some reason, Liliana didn't share a single shred of resemblance to her.

Madeline finished preparing the tea.