Chapter 59
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. âOur cooperation is
ended. Answering queries now would be just unpaid overtime, and Iâm not in the mood for that.â
She shrugged off his grip, âKeep your questions to yourself.â
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.
âDing.â
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 heâd 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, âMaxwell, Rosemary.â
Rosemary acknowledged him with a smile and stepped inside, deciding not to avoid any further
confrontation with Maxwell. She didnât 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 â 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.
Maxwellâs forbidding eyes were fixed on her unabashedly, his expressionless face etched with a
chilling hostility, âYou said earlier, the service of this club is world-class?â
The elevator was now filled with a quiet, awkward atmosphere as his voice shattered the silence!
âThe esteemed Mrs. Templeton seems quite knowledgeable. Have you experienced its amenities
yourself?â
Such a conversation was utterly awkward. with a third party present. Rosemary didnât dare to look
at Martinâs face. . The services that made a club world-class weren't usually of the respectable
variety.
And indeed, this club was famousâshe had heard Yolanda raving about it.
Maxwellâs words were calculated and pointed, grinding away at her already frayed nerves, âWhat
style did you look for?â
Rosemary had intended to play dead, but at his words, she couldnât hold back and retorted,
âDefinitely not your style, for certain.â
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 Martinâs
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 âding.â
She hastened out without a momentâs delay, almost sprinting in her rushâgrateful that Maxwell
didnât 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, âThe contractâs been signed.â
âSo you are free from the three hundred million debt?â
âYeah,â Rosemaryâs face beamed with relaxation as she exhaled a sigh of relief, âIâm finally released
from the relentless late nights and overwork. I feared Iâd collapse before I clearing that debt, even
ending up buying my own grave.â
âWhen are you returning?â Yolanda sounded more jubilant than her, âIâll book a hotel now and
arrange a big celebration to mark your escape from that swamp named Maxwell!â
Rosemary laughed, âIsnât this a bit too extravagant?â
âIâm actually toning it down. If I werenât running low on funds lately, Iâd rent an entire hotel for a
grand soiree and invite all the eligible bachelors I know, just to have you pick from.â
âYour selection of eligible bachelors? Kevin, Bob, Jeff?â
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 âclickâ sound of the lock
core unlocking after a successful verification.
Someone was coming in.
Rosemaryâs mood abruptly dampened, âI better hang up now, seems like Maxwell asked the staff for
a keycard.â
She grumbled while putting on her shoes, âCan you believe how petty he is? A grown man, and he's
still picking a fight with me this late.â
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 wasnât Maxwell.