Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Rosemary did a double-take, checking out Martin in front of her and then glancing over his shoulder at the room behind him. She blurted out in surprise, "How come you are here?"

Martin cracked a smile and casually explained, "I drank too much with Archer last night and ended up staying over here."

"Oh." Facing Martin, Rosemary was at a loss for words. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe the three years had made them strangers to each other.

She forced a smile and turned to head downstairs.

"Rosemary." Martin called out to her, handing over a check, "I won't be needing any money for the time being. There's no rush to pay me back."

Rosemary looked down and caught sight of the amount on the check – not a penny more or less, exactly the three hundred million she'd joked about before. It was all signed and ready to go; she could just take it and head to the bank today to transfer the money to Maxwell.

To be honest, she was tempted.

Probably anyone would be tempted by such a large amount, especially since she urgently needed money.

Martin saw her staring at the check in silence, unsure if she was feeling embarrassed. He added, "About last time, I hope it didn't cause you any trouble. Sorry, I didn't know Maxwell was in the car too."

He didn't mean anything by it, just figured since she wasn't willing to discuss borrowing money with Maxwell, there must be some unspeakable reason behind it.

Rosemary was momentarily taken aback before she realized he was referring to that incident in the Night Club parking lot.

Recalling that scene, she blushed instantly, feeling the check in front of her was a hot potato she couldn't touch.

She still remembered Maxwell's warning: If she dared to take Martin's money, he'd break her fingers!

Breaking fingers – she wasn't sure if he would actually do such a violent act, but she knew that if she took the money and Maxwell found out where it came from, he would surely not divorce her; instead, their entanglement would deepen.

Rosemary came to her senses and pushed the check back, "I've figured out the money issue, thanks for your kindness."

She refused, and Martin didn't insist, "Alright then."

The drama went late into the night, and at this time, Pearl was still resting. Rosemary sat at the dining table and glanced at the time.

Wendy served her a bowl of porridge and brought out a basket of breads, "Isn't today the weekend? Why's Mrs. Templeton up so early? Do you want to go back to bed after eating? The young master specifically instructed this morning not to disturb you, saying you were tired last night." © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Rosemary almost choked on her porridge, what kind of bullshit was that? Maxwell did it on purpose!

"It's alright, Wendy, I have things to do later, so I'll leave after eating. Let Mom know when she wakes up."

"Sure," Wendy affectionately patted her back, helping her catch her breath, "Take your time eating, no rush."

Rosemary found it hard to explain, ultimately just smiling and nodding, then quickly finished her meal and grabbed her bag to make a swift exit.

After the birthday party, she threw herself into a relentless cycle of work and overtime, occasionally calling Louis to check on the odds of winning the lawsuit.

She had to be ready for all eventualities; in case Maxwell reneged after getting the money, she needed to have a backup plan. Who knew how long he intended to stay angry at Victoria?

Just thinking about it was irritating. Wasn't Victoria hailed by the media as the most beautiful dancer of the millennium?

They said no man could resist her charm, so how come she'd been back in the country for so long and yet, why hadn't she even managed to settle things with an ex-boyfriend who was sniffing around her?

She was starting to question the credibility of those news!

While Rosemary was busy, Maxwell was too, with the contract with Quintin about to be signed and heaps of groundwork needing attention.

That evening, having finally dealt with all the urgent paperwork, Maxwell received a call from Archer .

"Where are you?"

"Pulling an all-nighter at the company." Maxwell could hear the background music through the phone, and it was anything but serious, "Is the Archer Group going bust? Is that why you're so idle

every day?"

Archer didn't back down, "Then why are you making all that dough, throwing money around like it's going out of style? Are you planning to be buried with it, or are you buying yourself a diamond coffin?"

"I read a news story once, about a husband who was the boss of a big company, worked himself to death providing for the family, and died young, leaving behind a huge fortune. Six months later, his wife walks down the aisle with his assistant, taking what he had fought for."

A vein on Maxwell's forehead twitched, unsure if it was due to excessive late nights lately, but he felt a momentary dizziness.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, cutting Archer off, "Shut up."

Just then, Christ knocked and entered, "Mr. Templeton, here are the documents you requested."

He hadn't finished speaking when he felt a chill run down his spine.

Looking up, he met Maxwell's icy and frost-covered gaze.

Maxwell shifted his gaze away from Christ, lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his office chair exhaustively, and said to the person on the line with impatience, "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, hang up."

Archer sensed the man's irritation and, after a moment of thought, asked, "Are you running low on money lately? You're so irritable."

Maxwell was in no mood to entertain such nonsense.

Archer noted his silence, raising an eyebrow, "Did you actually run into some trouble?"

"No."

"Then why did your wife go to borrow money from Martin? I thought maybe you needed some liquidity."

Archer had just happened to overhear Rosemary and Martin's hallway conversation that day – a trivial thing he'd forgotten, but now, with Maxwell sounding off, and all the overtime he'd been putting in, it suddenly came back to him.

Maxwell's hand paused as he smoked, his eyes narrowing, "Borrow money? For how much?"

On the other end, Archer sounded resigned, "How would I know? I'm not your wife."

Maxwell's gaze narrowed, his usually stern features now bore a layer of shadow, giving his strong contours a colder edge.

It seemed that woman hadn't taken his words to heart at all, daring to borrow money from Martin!