Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 486

Quentin didn't back down, nor did he look away.

The corner of his mouth ticked upward. It wasn't a smile—it was more the disdain of a man who had seen it all, brushing off a low-level threat.

"Then give it your best shot."

Jasper's expression finally darkened.

He didn't say anything else. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the room, tossing an order to the soldiers at the door. "Let Mr. Prescott stay in here and think about things. Let me know when he's finally seen the light."

The door locked from the outside.

Quentin stood alone in the barren office. The fluorescent light bulb above buzzed with a faint electrical hum, while the overgrown weeds outside rustled in the wind.

He glanced down at his watch—10:42 AM.

He pulled the folding chair over and sat, closing his eyes as if simply resting his mind.

He stayed there for over four hours.

Madeline realized something was wrong around eleven in the morning.

Right before his phone was confiscated, Quentin's secretary had managed to sneak her a quick text: "Mr. Prescott was taken by the military."

There were no replies after that message, and none of their phones were connecting.

She immediately called Quentin, but was met with the automated voicemail prompt.

In that instant, her heart felt like it had been seized by an invisible hand.

She forced herself to calm down, tearing through her contacts for anyone who might be able to help—lawyers, corporate legal directors.

But she quickly realized it was useless.

Jasper was acting under military authority.

He could invent a thousand different excuses to take Quentin, and any one of them would make his detention completely lawful.

And there was absolutely nothing she could do.

She didn't know where Quentin had been taken, whether he was hurt, or what Jasper was doing or saying to him.

She could only sit in her office, redialing that powered-off number over and over.

Listening to the mechanical automated voice repeat the same phrase, she spent the entire afternoon agonizing through the wait, second by second.

At 3:17 PM, her phone rang.

It was an unknown landline number.

She answered, and a brisk, professional male voice spoke: "Are you Quentin Prescott's family? You can come pick him up now."

The person provided an address and hung up immediately.

Madeline grabbed her coat and car keys, sprinting out of the office.

She drove for an hour and a half to reach the location.

The gates of The Abandoned Ordnance Depot were half-open, guarded by two soldiers.

Seeing her car, they briefly checked her ID and let her through.

She found Quentin in a dilapidated office.

He was sitting on a folding chair, his overcoat draped over the backrest. The top button of his shirt was undone, but otherwise, he looked exactly as he always did—poised, composed, and immaculate.

If not for the heavy stench of smoke in the room and the overflowing ashtray on the desk, she would have thought he was just waiting for a meeting to start.