Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 487

Quentin's pupils constricted sharply.

He stood frozen, still holding the glass of water. The rim hovered midway to his mouth, as though someone had hit pause on reality.

The room was deathly quiet for a few seconds.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice low, scraping from the very bottom of his throat.

It was as if he couldn't process it.

Madeline stood before him, her spine completely straight, but her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

She repeated it, her voice even steadier than before. "Let's get a divorce."

Quentin placed the glass on the table.

The movement was gentle, barely making a sound, but the veins on the back of his hand bulged prominently.

He reached out and gripped her shoulders, his hold painfully tight, as if trying to weld her directly to his chest.

Two hearts pressed closely together, as if he were checking whether hers had genuinely decided to leave him.

He lowered his head, his throat tight with a predatory warning.

"Repeat what you just said."

Madeline saw him in the reflection of the nearby mirror.

His brows were knit together, his jawline taut as a drawn bowstring, and those obsidian eyes churned with intense emotion—not anger, but something far closer to absolute terror.

"I said, let's get a divorce." She repeated it for a third time, enunciating every syllable flawlessly.

"I don't really want to leave you. It'll be fake."

"What do you mean, fake or real?" Quentin didn't loosen his grip; in fact, his hands clamped down harder.

"A divorce is a divorce. You can't fake something like that."

Madeline raised her hand, placing it gently over his where it rested on her shoulder.

His hands were warm, his knuckles slightly calloused, his palms dry—exactly how they felt every time he held her hand.

She slowly caressed his knuckles, one by one, as if committing the sensation to memory.

"Listen to me," her voice was soft, but completely unshakable.

"Local state laws require a thirty-day cooling-off period for uncontested divorces. From the day we file at The Department of Civil Records, if either of us backs out within those thirty days, the process is canceled. The divorce won't happen."

Quentin's gaze flickered, but he remained utterly silent, his eyes locked onto hers.

"I've calculated the timing," Madeline continued, her pace unhurried, like she was laying out a strategic battle plan she had reviewed a thousand times in her head.

"You said Penelope's baby isn't yours. You said you have your boundaries and would never leave something like that out there.

I believe you, but the Yorks don't. You could tell them ten thousand times, and they still wouldn't believe a word.

Because in their eyes, you're just bluffing.

You can't run a paternity test right now. You have to wait at least a month.