Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 494

Quentin caught her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.

He kissed it again.

"Be good and sign it, or I'm not going tomorrow."

Madeline hadn't expected him to be so stubborn.

She looked down at the divorce agreement. The legal jargon essentially spelled out one thing: he was walking away with absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, she would walk away with an empire.

It was incredibly unfair to him.

This fortune belonged to Quentin; she had no claim to it in the first place.

Getting a divorce meant she would be stripping him of his entire net worth.

And this was a divorce she had insisted on.

Madeline stared at the pages for a long time without signing. Finally, she picked up a pen and added a single clause.

"If the parties are unable to remarry due to reasons on the part of the female party, the male party may revoke the gifted assets. Upon remarriage, assets shall remain categorized by their original source, and premarital assets shall not be subject to division."

After she finished writing, she looked up at Quentin.

"You're giving me a safety net. It's only right I give you one too."

Quentin wanted to argue, but seeing the resolute look on her face, he knew pushing it would only make her anxious.

After a moment of consideration, he gave in and agreed.

With the agreement settled.

The two of them returned to The Monroe-Prescott Estate.

That night, Quentin didn't leave; he stayed by Madeline's side as she slept.

At first, they slept in separate beds.

But halfway through the night, Quentin slipped into hers.

Madeline started dreaming again.

But it wasn't a nightmare.

The dream felt incredibly warm and soothing.

She was standing on a vast, grassy slope in her own garden. The hillside was blanketed with tiny wildflowers—white, yellow, and purple—rippling like waves in the gentle breeze.

The sunlight was perfect, not too harsh, casting a golden, lazy glow over the tips of the grass.

The air carried a sweet, indescribable scent. It wasn't just the fragrance of flowers; it smelled more like the clean, comforting aroma of freshly washed linens drying in the yard on a summer evening when she was a child. It made her feel entirely safe.

Standing at the top of the slope and looking down, she suddenly spotted two tiny figures playing in the flowers.

A little boy and a little girl, both around three or four years old.