Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

What was meant to be an embrace felt more like being dragged along. Rosemary, already having consumed several drinks, felt her world starting to spin this time.

The contract had been signed, her mission fulfilled. They were now on separate paths. She considered herself to be of good temperament; had she been a hothead, she could never have endured three years with Maxwell, a man she now thought of disdainfully.

But even the best of temperaments could not withstand such senseless antics. “Our cooperation is ended. Answering queries now would be just unpaid overtime, and I’m not in the mood for that.”

She shrugged off his grip, “Keep your questions to yourself.”

Rosemary then turned towards the fire exit, her room was located on the sixth floor, the restaurant on the second. She preferred to haul herself up four floors of stairs than tolerate another moment alone with him.

Maxwell watched her retreating figure, an icy smirk settled on his lips. Just as she was about to cross his path, he lunged for her arm again, drawing her back towards him.

“Ding.”

The elevator doors slid open simultaneously, and Maxwell, without faltering, secured his arm around Rosemary, staring intense daggers at the individual standing inside the elevator.

Martin, witnessing the unmistakably charged atmosphere outside, was surprised, a rare expression from someone usually composed. He had known Maxwell for years and this was merely the second time he’d seen such suppressed emotions darken his face - the brooding ambiance was palpable.

And the last time.

That memory alone caused a phantom pain to manifest in his wrist, a remnant ache from a past dislocation.

But Martin quickly regained his composure, nodding at them, “Maxwell, Rosemary.”

Rosemary acknowledged him with a smile and stepped inside, deciding not to avoid any further confrontation with Maxwell. She didn’t want outsiders to witness their deeply troubled marriage.

Moreover, this was the same friend who once cautioned her against marrying Maxwell. Reflecting on her past denials now felt like self-inflicted insults – a sting, accompanied by humiliation!

After pressing the button for the sixth floor, she retreated to the corner, putting some distance from Maxwell.

With the contract signed and the three hundred million debt no longer burdening her, all she needed was half a day to visit the governmental office to claim her divorce certificate, and then she could entirely sever ties with him.

Maxwell’s forbidding eyes were fixed on her unabashedly, his expressionless face etched with a chilling hostility, “You said earlier, the service of this club is world-class?”

The elevator was now filled with a quiet, awkward atmosphere as his voice shattered the silence!

“The esteemed Mrs. Templeton seems quite knowledgeable. Have you experienced its amenities yourself?”

Such a conversation was utterly awkward. with a third party present. Rosemary didn’t dare to look at Martin’s face. . The services that made a club world-class weren't usually of the respectable variety.

And indeed, this club was famous—she had heard Yolanda raving about it.

Maxwell’s words were calculated and pointed, grinding away at her already frayed nerves, “What style did you look for?”

Rosemary had intended to play dead, but at his words, she couldn’t hold back and retorted, “Definitely not your style, for certain.”

Martin discreetly coughed, trying to suppress his awkwardness or maybe a chuckle. When Rosemary glanced his way, it was a mere reflex without any personal feeling, but to Maxwell, whose mind was seemingly filled with unclean thoughts, it clearly meant something else.

From his grim and malevolent expression, Rosemary could almost hear his next words: If Martin’s style appeals more to your taste, do you need me to request the manager for a few more in that style?

The thought was maddening!

As Rosemary pondered how to shut him up, the elevator reached the sixth floor, and the doors opened with a “ding.”

She hastened out without a moment’s delay, almost sprinting in her rush—grateful that Maxwell didn’t follow.

Once safely in her room, she inserted the room card into the power switch, tossed her bag and phone on the entrance console table and headed straight for the bathroom to freshen up.

By the time she finished her bath and skincare, an hour had passed.

She sat on the bed, rubbing on body lotion while video-chatting with Yolanda. Her tone light and cheerful, “The contract’s been signed.”

“So you are free from the three hundred million debt?”

“Yeah,” Rosemary’s face beamed with relaxation as she exhaled a sigh of relief, “I’m finally released from the relentless late nights and overwork. I feared I’d collapse before I clearing that debt, even ending up buying my own grave.”

“When are you returning?” Yolanda sounded more jubilant than her, “I’ll book a hotel now and arrange a big celebration to mark your escape from that swamp named Maxwell!”

Rosemary laughed, “Isn’t this a bit too extravagant?”

“I’m actually toning it down. If I weren’t running low on funds lately, I’d rent an entire hotel for a grand soiree and invite all the eligible bachelors I know, just to have you pick from.” Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“Your selection of eligible bachelors? Kevin, Bob, Jeff?”

A burst of laughter echoed from both ends of the call. In the midst of their jovial exchange, the sound of the door lock reading a card came from outside, followed by the “click” sound of the lock core unlocking after a successful verification.

Someone was coming in.

Rosemary’s mood abruptly dampened, “I better hang up now, seems like Maxwell asked the staff for a keycard.”

She grumbled while putting on her shoes, “Can you believe how petty he is? A grown man, and he's still picking a fight with me this late.”

Definitely because Martin was there. Maxwell didn't want to make a scene in front of him. Men and their egos and now, here he comes again.

It was just a banter, was it really worth holding onto so stubbornly?

Rosemary, in her pajamas, walked towards the door, but before she could reach it, someone pushed the door open from the outside.

However, the person who entered wasn’t Maxwell.