Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 475

Not long after Quentin set his phone down, Madeline woke up.

She opened her eyes to find his striking face right next to hers.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Handsome, radiating pure masculine magnetism.

The warm, buttery light from the bedside lamp washed over both of them.

Quentin sensed she was awake. He hadn't really slept either, merely resting with his eyes half-closed.

Upon waking, Madeline was breathing slightly heavy, her breaths laced with moisture, as if she had just escaped a suffocating nightmare.

"Quentin, is she really pregnant?"

Quentin opened his dark, predatory eyes and gave a low hum of confirmation.

Her nightmare had become reality.

She bit her lip, her head drooping in defeat.

"Look at me." His voice was gravelly and low. "Madeline, look at me."

She finally lifted her head to meet his gaze.

"I have never done anything with Penelope," he stated, enunciating every syllable. "Not even once. There is no physical way that child is mine."

Madeline stared at him. She could see every red vein in his eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the hard bob of his Adam's apple as he spoke.

He delivered every word with such forceful conviction, as if betting his entire honor on this singular truth.

"I believe you," she finally whispered, her voice as faint as a sigh.

Quentin froze for a second.

"But I also need time to process this," she continued.

"She's actually pregnant. Whose is it? Why is she trying to pin it on you? If it really isn't yours, how does she have the nerve to provoke me like this? We need to figure all of this out.

"And most importantly, how is the York family going to react? Until a paternity test can be done in a month, you have absolutely no way to completely detach yourself from this child."

Quentin pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. His voice rumbled against her. "I'll figure it out. Please don't worry."

He murmured soothing comforts while threading his fingers through hers, locking them in an ironclad grip.

Resting against his chest, listening to the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat, Madeline slowly closed her eyes again.

She was trying to reassure herself with her own words.

She believed he hadn't touched the woman, but she was still gutted. Any woman told that another woman was supposedly carrying her husband's child would inevitably feel this wave of anxiety, loss, and agony.

Furthermore, Penelope wasn't just anyone. Madeline had seen the sheer power of her family and the terrifying level of pampering they bestowed upon her.