Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 169

Madeline stared at the plush cushion on the floor, then shifted her gaze back to Lucius.

His eyes avoided hers entirely, fixated on some empty corner of the room.

It was as if he were observing a painting that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Madeline suddenly found the whole situation hilarious. She was here for a divorce—to wash her hands of this absurd, toxic marriage once and for all.

Yet, the divorce was still hanging in the balance, and now she was expected to beg on her knees for an old woman she had never even met?

Submit to what? Apologize for her own surname?

Gripping the armrest of the chair, she slowly, painfully pulled herself up until she was standing perfectly straight.

The handprint on her face throbbed painfully, and her ears were still ringing loudly, but she kept her spine as rigid as a drawn bowstring.

"I won't do it," she said.

Her voice wasn't loud, but in the sudden, dead silence of the living room, every single syllable rang out with crystal clarity.

Eleanor's eyes narrowed into slits, resembling an ancient hawk whose talons were still lethally sharp.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, I will not get on my knees." Madeline met her vicious glare head-on. "I haven't done anything wrong. My surname is Monroe. It was given to me by my parents. They raised me, they taught me how to be a decent human being, and they never once taught me to bow down just because someone didn't like my name."

Millicent screeched from the sidelines. "Listen to her! Just listen to her! What kind of upbringing is this?! Talking back to your elders! Ordering you to the floor is a compliment—"

"Then why don't you get down there?" Madeline cut her off, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Since bowing down is such an honor, you should go ahead and take the compliment yourself."

Millicent choked on her own spit, her face turning a sickly shade of purple. Her finger trembled violently as she pointed at Madeline, utterly speechless.

Sensing the perfect opportunity, Liliana stood up. Pasting a look of distressed sympathy on her face, she walked over to Madeline, pitching her voice soft and sweet, like she was coaxing a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Madeline, please don't be so stubborn. Do you know who Mrs. Prescott is? Allowing you to submit is her showing mercy. Just get down, and we can talk this out reasonably. Don't make things harder for Lucius—"

"Shut your mouth." Madeline snapped her head toward her. The absolute zero temperature in her eyes made Liliana's fake smile falter for a split second.

"You're the one who wants me on my knees, aren't you?" Madeline mocked. "Didn't get enough of the restroom treatment yesterday?"

Liliana's face contorted violently.

For a fraction of a second, raw, unfiltered malice threatened to tear through her flawless makeup, but she quickly forced it down. Shrinking back with a pathetic whimper, her eyes welled with tears, and her voice quivered.

"Lucius... look at her... I was just trying to help, and she's being so cruel..."

Eleanor slammed her hand against the armrest of her chair.

"Lance!"

The bodyguard, Lance, stepped forward again. His heavy, measured footsteps carried the cold detachment of a professional executioner. He bypassed Lucius like he was walking past a piece of furniture, locking his sights firmly onto Madeline.

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