Chapter 132

For the following days, Rosemary hadn't seen those guys around the apartment again. She realized

she had been overthinking that night and quickly put it out of her mind.

The show had just finished filming and hadn't aired yet. Even if someone was plotting against her,

now wasn't the time.

That day, right after pulling an extra shift, Rosemary got a call from Hogan. He started off with a

tone of resentment, "If I don't reach out to you, would you just act like I don't exist?"

They hadn't been in touch since their hospital farewell. He'd been swamped and hadn't had a

chance to catch up. Only later did he realize this heartless woman hadn't even bothered to drop him

a single message.

A grown man sounding like a nagging woman, Rosemary couldn't help but laugh out loud, "How's

your injury? Did you get it dressed like the doctor told you?"

The man grunted, "If I waited for you to ask, grass would be growing two meters high on my grave."

Rosemary was packing up her stuff and didn't bite. After waiting for about a few seconds, Hogan

complained, "Back in school, you might not have been chatty, but at least you were a hot-blooded

youth with a heart of gold. How come you've become so lifeless over the years, like a clam?"

"Did you call just to whine about me?"

"Of course not, I'm asking you out for a midnight snack." Hogan said lazily, "Come down, I'm outside

your building."

"I'm at the studio, not home."

"At this late hour?" Hogan glanced at his watch; it was already past eight. He had come straight

here after wrapping up his stuff, intending to ask her out for dinner, "Hang on, Yolanda said your

workplace was at home. Where's the studio? I'll come pick you up."

Rosemary paused, realizing she hadn't gotten around to telling Yolanda that she was back working

at Heritage Revive Studio.

"No need, I drove here. There's not much around this area, so just send me the location when

you've decided where, and I'll head straight there."

"Alright then."

Hanging up, Rosemary finished tidying her workbench, checked the water and electricity to make

sure everything was off, and then took her keys and left.

Came winter, the streets were deserted at night, and the studio's location, away from any shopping

district, made it even quieter.

After locking up, Rosemary hurried to the parking lot. When she saw her car, her steps halted. With

few cars around, the group of people by her car stood out starkly, sitting or standing, their blonde

hair particularly eye-catching in the dark.

They were all there for Rosemary. As soon as she appeared, they spotted her.

"Ms. Chambers, you sure made us wait. It's freezing out here; we're about to turn into popsicles.

How about you hurry up and open the car so we can warm up inside?" The speaker was the same

man that Rosemary had seen days before at the apartment, the one who had snarled at her.

Rosemary's body tensed, her hand slipped into her bag, finding her phone, "I don't know you."

"No problem, we know you; that’s enough." They started to approach her, "Just a small favor for Ms.

Chambers."

Seeing this, Rosemary turned and ran. These men had a clear purpose, and stalling for time

wouldn't work.

But the inherent physical difference between men and women meant that even as she sprinted

forward, they quickly encircled her.

"Don't worry. We're just gonna snap some photos; won't really do anything to you. It's cold as hell,

Ms. Chambers, just be a dear and cooperate so we can wrap this up and get back."

Rosemary held her breath, "Who sent you?"

She glanced around. Not a single soul in sight, not even a stray dog.

"That involves professional ethics, so you better not pry. The more you know, the worse it gets." The

lead guy motioned to the others, "Go easy; don't hurt her. Make sure the photos are clear."

The men sneered, closing in. Rosemary kept backing up, but there were people behind her too. No

way out.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was leaving the villa with a grim face, calling Rosemary.

These last few days his mom had been giving him the evil eye, acting like he was the last thing she

wanted to see, yet insisting on calling him back home every night, saying he was living alone at

Meadowlark Retreat like a lost soul.

He hadn't expected her to call his dad back too, today of all days, with the same old message - to

learn and practice more.

Easy for them to say. Rosemary treated him like he was trash, wanting to be as far from him as

possible. How was he supposed to “practice”?

The phone kept ringing, almost to the point of hanging up automatically when someone finally

answered. Before he could speak, a woman's shrill voice mixed with heavy breathing came through,

"I'm at...ah!"

Then, the line went dead. Maxwell's face went pale, a dark fury flashing in his eyes. He called her

again as fast as he could, but her phone was turned off.

Starting the car, he drove towards Rosemary's apartment, his long, strong fingers clutching the

steering wheel. He swiped the screen a few times and made a call, "Find out where Rosemary is

now; you have three minutes."