Chapter 24

Rosemary hesitated for a few seconds, and then stopped herself from walking away.

Martin was a bit tipsy, the drunkenness clear in his eyes, and his shirt was more wrinkled than

usual. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, "I'm really sorry about what happened back then."

Rosemary's gaze drifted momentarily, knowing exactly what he was referring to. The audio of her

proposing to him.

At that time, she was up to her eyeballs in debt, scrambling for money, and the sudden exposure of

that recording just threw her into an abyss of no return!

The thing people said to her the most back then was, “Ms. Chambers, since you're so bold, why not

just sleep with a few more guys? A debt of ten more million is nothing you can't handle, right?”

Even three years later, those memories were crystal clear in Rosemary's mind, unforgettable.

"Back then, we were talking marriage, but at the end of the day, it was nothing more than a willing

deal," Rosemary said flatly, but that didn't mean she was over it.

"You could have totally rejected me, even said I was dreaming on. You could have ridiculed me

however you wanted, but why did you put that recording online? No matter how much you disliked

me, that was a low blow, not something a real man would do!"

By the end, Rosemary couldn't help but get emotional. After she spilled her guts, Martin let out a

laugh, "You think I leaked the audio?"

Rosemary didn't answer, but her silence was as good as a confirmation. The audio only had the two

of them, and the place they spoke was a tea house Martin had chosen for its privacy.

The quality of that recording was so clear; it had to be up close and personal. Who else could it be

but him?

Martin's gentle smile faded a bit, and after a moment of silence, he said sternly, "Not me."

Beyond those two words, he offered no further explanation. Whether Rosemary believed him or not

was anyone's guess.

She glanced at her watch, wanting nothing more than to leave, but the party outside was in full

swing and wouldn't end anytime soon.

She had arrived in Maxwell's car, and since Rosewood Villa was the only house in this area, walking

out meant no chance of hailing a cab.

The terrace was spacious, so Rosemary picked a spot not too close nor too far from Martin and

started mindlessly scrolling through her phone.

The silence lasted for a while until Martin broke it, "How've you been these past few years?"

Her thumb paused on the screen. She knew he was asking about her marriage to Maxwell. She

forced a smile and replied nonchalantly, "Not great, should've listened to you."

Best friends knew each other, indeed.

When the news of Rosemary and Maxwell's wedding broke, Martin had warned her, "You and

Maxwell aren't a good match. He’s fallen for someone else. This marriage won't make you happy."

Back then, Rosemary was desperate and didn't care about compatibility. Maxwell was her lifeline,

but looking back, she had indeed rushed into things.

"Ha, listen to him?"

The cold voice that suddenly cut in made Rosemary jump. She turned to see Maxwell walking in,

his aura of aristocracy failing to mask the storm brewing in his eyes, "Listen to him and end up

dealing with loan sharks, sold abroad to do prostitution?"

Martin's brows knitted at the sight of him; he felt a sense of hostility from his good buddy for the first

time.

"Maxwell, don't talk like that. Don't twist people's words."

Maxwell glanced at him, asking indifferently, "Aren't you busy hosting your party?"

With a resigned touch to his nose, Martin knew it was not his place to say more and left the terrace

with his drink in hand.

Rosemary also wanted to leave, knowing Maxwell was on the verge of blowing a gasket. She'd

have to be crazy to stick around for his sneers and taunts.

But just as she reached his side, he grabbed her arm, his voice sharp and icy, "Rosemary, don't

forget who paid off your debts when you were drowning. Back then, Martin was probably off

canoodling with some other woman!"

She didn't want to hear any more about the past and chose to remain silent, but an enraged

Maxwell clenched her wrist and dragged her away from Rosewood Villa.

As soon as the car hit the main road, Rosemary said, "Pull over. I'll get a cab home."

Maxwell just drove, not looking at her.

"We're going to the old house tonight. Mom's been talking about you all day, asking if I've been

bullying you again."

"Did the test results come back?" Hearing they were visiting Pearl, Rosemary dropped the idea of

leaving the car. She was genuinely concerned about Pearl's health.

Maxwell wasn't keen to discuss it, "Some results won't be back until tomorrow."

By the time they returned, it was late, but Pearl had waited up for them in the living room,

immediately pulling Rosemary's hand with care at the sight of her, "Hungry? Wendy made some

soup; it's warming in the kitchen. I'll get it for you."

"Pearl." Rosemary hurriedly stopped her, "I'll get it myself."

To keep Pearl from suspecting anything, she served a bowl for Maxwell as well.

Pearl rolled her eyes, "Why are you feeding him? Wasting my good soup!" She still remembered the

hickey on Maxwell's neck, possibly from some other woman.

Maxwell chuckled helplessly on the sidelines, "Mom, you're playing favorites."

"I haven't killed you just because of our mother-son relationship!"

Later, unable to stay awake, Pearl headed upstairs after seeing Rosemary finish her soup, not

without a parting shot, "Don't spoil him. Sometimes you need to lay down the law with this

ungrateful man."

Pearl wasn't worried about other women, but Victoria, that angelic bitch, was a handful, and Pearl

had seen her tricks before.

Listening to Pearl describe her own son in such terms, Rosemary was torn between laughter and

warmth, feeling truly cherished.

Her own mother had passed away early, and her father was a scumbag! After marrying Maxwell,

Pearl had filled the void of family for her.

If she could, she'd love to keep doing right by Pearl, but after a divorce, they're just not family

anymore.

Back in her room, Rosemary hit the showers first. Then, while Maxwell was having his turn in the

bathroom, she snagged a blanket from the closet and chucked it onto the sofa.

The man came out with his skin still damp, caught sight of the blanket on the sofa, raised an

eyebrow, but headed straight for the bed anyway.

Lying on the bed, Rosemary scrunched up her face in irritation, "You hit the couch."

They were getting divorced after all, no need to share a bed anymore. But Maxwell just looked at

her and cracked a smile, his eyes dripping with thick sarcasm, "I sleep on the couch, and then you

slap me with a divorce for being 'unsatisfied'? Nice try."

Hearing that, Rosemary set him straight, all high and mighty, "It's not about my unsatisfaction; it's

about your 'performance issues'. You can't even meet the basic needs of a marriage. I've got to get

hitched again in the future, you know. Don't go slinging mud my way and making my future hubby

get the wrong idea."

"Get hitched again?" Maxwell let out a cold laugh, "To who? Martin?"