Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Hanging out with Rosemary right now were some other colleagues, and at this moment they were all shooting her sly grins.

After being ribbed all day, she could finally face these people's eyes with a sense of calm. As Beth walked past her, she turned her head and whispered, "Rose, you didn't cover up that hickey behind your ear."

Rosemary, the total newbie who jumped straight from singleness into marriage and guarded an empty bed for three years, tried to stay cool as a cucumber. But when faced with a situation indescribably embarrassing, she couldn't just brush it off. She quickly covered her ear with her hand, blocking out Beth's gaze.

"Don't bother hiding it; everyone has seen it already."

This morning when Rosemary left the house, she had looked in the mirror and covered the marks on her neck with concealer, wore a turtleneck sweater, wrapped a scarf around, and even let her usually tied-up hair down. She thought she was armed to the teeth, but still, it wasn't enough to hide everything.

Beth was bubbly. Seeing Rosemary's face turn red, she quickly scooted off after saying hi to Maxwell.

The entire studio, including the cleaning staff, was just over a dozen people. In the blink of an eye, only Rosemary and Maxwell were left at the door.

"Get in the car."

"Mr. Templeton, don't you have a clear sense of who you are?" Rosemary felt like she'd been bugged by his shameless persistence for so long that her temper had evolved. Now, seeing him,

she couldn't even muster up any anger, "How gutsy do you think a woman has to be to get into the car of a guy who's a rapist?"

She emphasized the word “rapist” heavily, clearly still ticked off about last night's events.

Maxwell looked at her and after a long pause said, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

His words sounded like an apology, but they didn't carry an ounce of sincerity. It was all just a “I'm not wrong, I just couldn't help it, and if I can't help it next time, I'll do it again” attitude, like a dead mouse feared no cold.

Useless, why expect a beast to have any sense of propriety? Why waste time arguing with him? A few pointed jabs wouldn't humiliate him due to his thick skin and if she were to get physical.

With his masochistic tendencies, he might actually enjoy it.

"Rosemary," she turned to leave, but Maxwell called out to her, "aren't you going to take your mom's belongings?" This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Rosemary spun around abruptly.

The car's air conditioning was on, and the man was only wearing a shirt and trousers, buttoned up to the top, exposing just the area around his Adam's apple - both chaste and tempting. But no matter how good-looking he was, it couldn't hide his despicable nature.

"Why would you have my mom's things?"

The last time Larry said he'd send them back to her, he even gave her the tracking number, but then there was no follow-up. Not only were those belongings probably gone, but even if there was anything left, she didn't really expect him to return them, so she didn't bother to keep tabs.

Although Maxwell wasn't a good man, he wouldn't use this to deceive her, because if he wanted, finding those items would be easy for him - so easy it wouldn't be worth lying about.

"Get in the car."

Rosemary took a deep breath and got into the car. Maxwell glanced at her as she pulled out a can of pepper spray and a safety hammer from her bag, holding them in her hand.

He had no doubt that the safety hammer was intended for cracking his skull.

The car headed toward Meadowlark Retreat, with Rosemary turning to look out the window the moment she got in, clearly refusing to engage in conversation.

Maxwell asked, "Why did you throw out the flowers?"

"What else was I supposed to do? Post a picture on the campus forum to show off?"

Rosemary's response was solely to needle him, but she forgot that Maxwell was a confident man. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "Jealous? The bouquet for Victoria wasn't from me."

To avoid dying of frustration, Rosemary decided to pretend to sleep. When dealing with someone who was overly confident, explaining was like covering up, and silence meant she agreed.

For the sake of her mother's belongings, Rosemary decided to endure!

Meadowlark Retreat.

It'd been months since she moved out. Although she'd been back in a rush, she never really took a good look around. She thought she'd feel like a stranger coming back here, but when she pushed open the door, everything inside was exactly as it was when she left; even the decorations hadn't been moved.

Her slippers were still in the shoe cabinet. When she moved out, it was summer. Now inside, there were her winter slippers, as if she never left.

"Where are my mom's things?"

"Upstairs in the secondary bedroom."

Getting an answer, Rosemary didn't bother with Maxwell anymore and hurried upstairs.

The items weren't many, all related to artifact restoration and collectibles. She didn't know if these were her mother's, but she did recognize a few familiar things among them.

Maxwell leaned in the doorway, not entering, "The bags, clothes, and shoes that were sold, they've been worn by others; I didn't buy them back."

Those were designer brands, and even though they'd been worn, people would still buy them.

Rosemary opened one of the toolboxes, which was filled with artifact restoration tools. They were not worth much, which was probably why they'd been preserved so well.

She said, "Thanks, can I get a suitcase?"

Even though her mother passed away a long time ago and she'd come to terms with her loss, seeing these items still tugged at her heartstrings, making her eyes well up.

Maxwell replied, "We don't have any at home; I'll send someone to buy one, but it might take half an hour."

Rosemary, with her back to him, looked perfectly fine from her silhouette.

"I have a meeting later; I’ll have the maid bring it over when it's ready," he closed the door behind him as he left.

Only when his footsteps fade away did Rosemary slump down into a chair. How could there be no suitcase at home? Maxwell saying this was just an indirect way of telling her that for the next half hour, no one would come in here; she could let her emotions out freely.

Looking at those items, Rosemary felt more and more familiar with them; these were what her mother once used.

A few minutes later, she bowed her head and buried her face in her palms. Half an hour later, the maid delivered the suitcase. Rosemary refused help and carefully packed everything before carrying it downstairs herself.

Maxwell was sitting in the dining room, with a lavish dinner spread out on the table, "Come and eat."

Rosemary showed him right then and there what it meant to turn cold-hearted. She didn't say a word, just grabbed her suitcase and headed out the door.

The villa was huge, with a bit of a trek from the dining room to the living room. By the time Maxwell caught up with her, Rosemary was already at the entrance.

"I'll drive you home after dinner."

"Thanks for helping me find my mom's things. I won't disturb you two anymore."

Maxwell didn't catch her drift at first, not until a woman's familiar cooing reached them from outside, "Maxwell."