Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love



The bodyguard snapped to attention first, quickly spinning around to check out the scenic tree in the garden, and lo and behold, Ms. Temple was in her birthday suit!NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

"Mrs. Templeton, there's gotta be some kind of mix-up here. When I left, Mr. Templeton was so plastered he was out like a light."

Rosemary's eyes darkened as she looked down, fumbling for her phone in her bag with shaky hands, missing the grip over and over.

The bodyguard was freaking out on the inside, like ants on a hot pan, while sneaking peeks at Rosemary's reaction from the corner of his eye. But who would've thought? Instead of leaving, Rosemary walked right in with her phone.

The bodyguard was taken aback. This wasn't the scene he had pictured in his head. "Mrs. Templeton, what's going on here...?"

Rosemary flicked on the living room lights, and the blinding flood of light exposed the two disheveled figures on the couch, as she started snapping pictures with her phone.

Victoria's hand was on Maxwell's shirt buttons - she was wearing a black off-the-shoulder sweater underneath, which was hidden by the couch back. That's why Rosemary thought she was undressed when she first glanced in from the doorway.

"Maxwell just spilled some water on himself, and it's chilly out. Sleeping in wet clothes can lead to a cold," she explained, but didn't budge an inch. Instead, she shot Rosemary a mocking smile, "Mrs. Templeton shouldn't mind, right? Besides, you've got your mind on Martin now, no time to worry about anything else."

Maxwell was totally sloshed, and didn't even wake up with all the commotion.

Victoria was about to unbutton his shirt when her wrist was suddenly gripped tight—

It was Maxwell.

Frowning, he growled in a raspy voice, loaded with warning, "Beat it, don't touch me."

"Maxwell," Victoria said softly, "It's me, Victoria."

But his grip didn't ease up; he even seemed like he wanted to fling her away, even though he was clearly knocked out.

"Maxwell..."

Her voice rose a notch, the sharp pain in her wrist forcing her to yank her hand back, trying to break free from his clamp.

Maxwell finally woke up, slowly opening his eyes, drunk as a lord, clearly not all there.

Didn't feel like moving, didn't feel like talking.

His groggy gaze drifted over to Rosemary, indifferent, "What are you doing here?"

He was still in the hospital shirt and suit pants, now crumpled against his body, making him look down-and-out and in a sorry state. A few shirt buttons were undone, revealing a chest marred with overlapping new and old bruises.

Rosemary's gaze on her phone screen slowly thickened into something tangible, as if only now she was coming back to reality from the scene before her: "You'll have to ask your bodyguard why he dragged me here in the dead of night."

Maxwell glanced at the bodyguard, who immediately stood at attention under his gaze, "It was Archer's orders, afraid you'd get into trouble drunk and unattended."

If he had known Ms. Temple would show up, he sure as heck wouldn't have bolted so fast.

"Maxwell," Victoria chimed in, not liking that the moment he opened his eyes, all his attention was on Rosemary, ignoring the one who had been taking care of him all along.

He didn't even care why she was there too.

Victoria's hair was down, her whole demeanor was one of calm elegance, unapologetic, without a trace of guilt, "Rosemary seems to have gotten the wrong idea. She took some photos that could cause a bad stir if they got out..."

Rosemary quirked an eyebrow, amused, "Took care until clothes came off? If that were a bed, Ms. Temple would probably have rolled right onto it."

Victoria frowned, probably finding her words distasteful, "Maxwell was drunk and threw up, I had to take off the dirty clothes first. If you don't believe me, feel free to check."

She paused, lips curling in scorn, "You've got no right to blame me. If you could fulfill your duties as a wife, I wouldn't have the chance to take care of him."

Maxwell's order was cool and detached, "Delete them."

Rosemary looked at the man in front

of her, and felt like she'd been doused with ice water. She knew he favored Victoria, offering her blind unquestioning protection, but still, she felt an unspeakable sadness sweeping over her, the icy

seeping into her bones fro

pore.

every

Stubbornly, she stared at him, silent, as a blank despair slowly clouded her eyes.

In the tense silence, Victoria stood up, "Since you're back, I'll leave him to you. I'm off."

She brushed past Rosemary, a sneer hidden deep in her heart, locking eyes with her for a moment as she turned.

That look was condescending, disdainful, with a challenge that others couldn't sense.

In this game, she had won.

She was waiting for their divorce; the title of Mrs. Templeton was hers for the taking, and only hers.

Once Victoria left, the bodyguard hurried out too.

Rosemary didn't move; she stood there, eyes downcast, looking at the man on the couch, still hazy from the drink, "Maxwell, let's talk."

The man chuckled lightly, "Me, all banged up and drunk, and you want to talk now?"

Rosemary was silent for a few seconds, despite the air conditioning in the living room, she felt cold standing there in her light clothes, "Is there any point in forcing this, after everything that's happened?"

Maxwell eyed her through half-closed lids.

Rosemary met his gaze, their eyes clashing under the brilliant lights, illuminating the desolation and silence in hers.

Maxwell didn't know when Victoria

had arrived, but since Rosemary had the photos, she must've been there first. But since he opened his eyes, Rosemary had been detached, showing no anger at being 'caught in the act,' not even a sarcastic remark.

Even now, facing him, instead of lashing out with all the venom she could muster, she simply asked that one question.

She looked utterly exhausted.

But once those sharp thorns were gone, so were the vibrant emotions. Now she's like a lifeless rag doll.

In that moment, a sudden pang in his heart eclipsed all the physical pain he had, he closed his eyes, his voice stripped of its previous arrogance, murmured, "Not interesting, huh? I thought it was pretty intriguing."

Rosemary had grown accustomed

to his barbed words and her

confrontational stance. She squeezed her eyes shut, her voice hoarse to the brink, "Let's get divorce. I'm truly fed up with this relentless, dragging marriage. Every single dispute just wears me out."