Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love



Ever since that nurse was expelled by Maxwell in the morning, no one else had entered the room with bed 507. Maxwell remained seated by the bed in the same attire, the gash on the back of his hand had scabbed over, and outside, the daylight faded into darkness.

Maxwell hadn't moved an inch; if it weren't for the occasional blink, you'd swear he was a lifeless statue.

The room wasn't soundproof, so you could clearly hear the chatter and footsteps from outside. Those whispers seeping into the room made Maxwell seem even more lonely and forlorn, almost ghost-like.

When night fell, even those outside sounds disappeared. It got even quieter.

"Click."All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

The sound of the door handle being pressed down was especially loud in the silent room. Maxwell didn't open his eyes, didn't even turn around, just coldly barked, "Get out."

But the visitor didn't leave - they came in instead.

With a "bang," the stool that was propped against the door got kicked away, followed by a racket of more things being kicked around. The footsteps stopped only when they reached the bedside.

Maxwell opened his eyes and looked at the person before him, not a hint of surprise: "What are you doing here?"

There were only a handful of people bold enough to come in at this hour, and even fewer who'd make such a commotion.

Archer Winters flopped down beside him, mainly because there was nowhere else to sit. He handed Maxwell a cigarette and lit one up for himself, "You think I wanted to come? The head honcho called my secretary, told me to drag your ass out of here. If you're gonna kick the bucket, don't do it on their turf."

Maxwell glanced at the man puffing smoke next to him and muttered, "No smoking in the hospital."

"You're preaching about rules now? You brawled in a hospital? Fine, you brawled, but then you got your ass handed to you and refused treatment. Now they're freaking out, pulling strings left and right to get someone to pick you up, scared stiff you'll croak on their property. And here you are, telling me I can't smoke?"

Maxwell glared at him, all menace.

Archer sneered, "What, you haven't had enough? Wanna go another round? You really want to end up like a piece of crap no dog would sniff at?"

"Get lost..."

Archer flicked ash from his cigarette, "Spill it. What went down? Why'd you suddenly start swinging at Martin?"

"It's nothing."

Your wife running off with another man, and that man being your bro of over a decade - that's the kind of embarrassment no one wants to broadcast. Archer quirked an eyebrow, "Suit yourself. I'll get a doc in here to check you out. If you're not dying, get the hell up and move to a different room. The cleaning crew needs to do their job."

He snuffed out his half-smoked cigarette and stood up, "Oh, by the way, Victoria's outside."

Maxwell frowned, "You brought her?"

Archer: "Do I look like I have time to kill? She was already in the lobby when I got here, been sitting there for God knows how long. If you want to see her, I'll let her in. If not, I'll take her with me when I leave."

Maxwell placed the cigarette between his lips and with a flick of the lighter, set it ablaze.

After a few puffs, he spoke indifferently, "Let her in."

Archer raised an eyebrow and went to fetch her.

Victoria was right outside. Knowing Maxwell was willing to see her, she came straight in. Seeing him covered in dried blood, tears instantly started to flow: "Maxwell."

Maxwell didn't respond. He was half-reclining on the bed, eyes closed, one leg bent on the bed, the other dangling carelessly, a picture of desolation. Victoria approached, "How'd you get so banged up?"

She was about to touch the bruised cheekbone when Maxwell opened his eyes and looked at her.

His gaze was icy, pushing her away.

Victoria's concern shattered under his coldness. Right then, Archer brought in a doctor, and she found an outlet for her anger, turning to the

nurse

se behind her: "He's hurt like this and you don't treat him? What if something happens? Can your hospital handle that responsibility?"

The nurse, the same one Maxwell had cursed out in the morning, feeling aggrieved, defended herself in a low voice, "Mr. Templeton refused the treatment."

Why don't you go chew out the big shot himself?

The doctor was cleaning Maxwell's

wounds, and as the blood was wiped away, the true extent of the injuries revealed themselves. You'd think it'd look a bit better than a bloody mess, not so shocking, but it was just as bad.

Bruises, swollen cuts, a battered nose - it was more horrifying than the bloody version. Victoria thought the blood had been a mercy cover.

Maxwell let the doctor tend to him, not even a wince during the process, as if he didn't feel a thing.

Victoria: "Where's Rosemary? You're in this state, and she, as your wife, isn't here to take care of you?"

Maxwell still didn't speak, but the

nurse couldn't keep her mouth shut: "Mr. Templeton got these injuries because of Mrs. Templeton. She's upstairs in the surgical ward fussing over some other guy."

"

Today's drama had spread through the hospital, and her colleagues had filled her in on the trio's identities.

Maxwell's eyes snapped open, a frosty look thrown at the chatty nurse.

Victoria, seeing this, let out a cold laugh: "She treats you like this, and you still cover for her? You can't even stand others speaking a word against her?"

After saying that and seeing Maxwell's lack of reaction, she stormed out of the room.

Archer, who had been fiddling with his phone, glanced up, "You're just gonna let her go stir up trouble with Rosemary?"

-

Archer was sick of his deadpan face and couldn't be bothered to interfere any longer: "Just remember, if things go south, don't regret it."

Maxwell gave him a flat look, "If you're bored, go handle the discharge paperwork."

"You think I want to deal with your crap?"

Archer stood up and headed for the door, only to hear Victoria's voice, "Rosemary, Maxwell is so badly hurt, and you've got the nerve to feed some other guy?"

Victoria had intended to go upstairs and confront her, but as fate would have it, as soon as the elevator doors opened, there she was, clutching a meal box.

When Victoria grilled her, Rosemary didn't hold back and snapped back, "And who exactly are you to be interrogating me? Maxwell's ex? His fling? Or maybe the future Mrs. Templeton?"