Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Rosemary waited for a while without hearing a response. Looking at the mostly unrestored paintings on the table, she said impatiently, "What's the matter? If you don't speak, I'll hang up.”

Maxwell had the word "I dialed the wrong number" dancing on the tip of his tongue, but the woman's obvious impatience provoked his anger, and he blurted out a last-minute change of plan: "Come and pick me up at the Night Club."

Rosemary frowned, "Are you out of your mind? You want me to pick you up?”

It wasn't that she'd never picked him up before. Back when she first started as his personal assistant, he got drunk once, and just then she had called him to ask when he would be back. Christ had answered the phone at that time. Knowing their relationship, he told her that Mr. Templeton was plastered and she needed to come get him.

Back then, Maxwell was quite annoyed with her. When his bleary eyes cracked open, seeing it was her, he went ballistic. Christ was scolded as well, and even had his year-end bonus deducted over it. After that incident, no matter how drunk Maxwell was, Christ never asked her to pick him up again.

Maxwell clearly forgot that episode, hearing her reluctance, he scoffed, "We're not divorced yet, picking me up is your duty as Mrs. Templeton.”

But his words made Rosemary laugh in anger, "You're talking to me about duties? Have you ever fulfilled your duties as a husband?”

Silence spread between them.

Just as she was about to hang up, the man's husky voice came through, low and magnetic, "I'm on speaker, and there are others here, Mrs. Templeton, don't be so voracious.”

That one sentence had Rosemary gritting her teeth, "You might as well drink yourself to death.”

"If you come get me, I'll forget about those interest.”

After a brief struggle, Rosemary finally agreed.

It was not that she didn't want to stand her ground, but he was offering too much!

Unless one was foolishly rich, no one would refuse such a tempting offer. Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Maxwell looked at the ended call and let out a self-deprecating chuckle in his heart: This woman is really materialistic.

Archer, who noticed him staring at the phone with an unusual expression, couldn't help but ask curiously, "Who were you calling? You looked totally lost.”

Hearing this, Maxwell tossed the phone aside and rubbed his temples wearily, "The driver.”

Archer raised an eyebrow; he didn't buy that answer, but didn't press it further. He had plenty problems of his own lately, and wasn't in the mood for an idle chat.

After a bit more drinking, Maxwell stood up, "Go for a smoke?”

The two men headed out of the private room to the small balcony in the public area.

Just then, Rosemary's call came in, and she was unwilling to say any more than necessary, "I've arrived.”

Maxwell checked the time out of habit, "Wait for me in the parking lot,” and hung up without further explanation.

Little did he know that Rosemary had already entered the Night Club. Because of that past incident, the manager recognized her and knew she was there for Maxwell, so he led her straight to the floor where he was.

She stared at her call log screen, cursing that damn man countless times in her heart.

On the balcony, Maxwell ground out his cigarette in the fine white sand, straightened up against the railing, "Let's go.”

Archer put out his cigarette too, and they left the balcony together. On the way back, he teased, "So, this is your ‘driver'?”

Archer had seen the name on the screen when Maxwell took the call earlier.

The man gave a single grunt of acknowledgment, "Hmm.”

"Aren't you two getting a divorce? What, have you made up?”

The word 'divorce' made Maxwell's brows furrow, his tone carrying a hint of irritation, "She's just throwing a tantrum. When has she ever mentioned divorce without aiming for some goal?”

Archer clearly didn't agree, "But this time it seems like you two have been at it for a while. Maybe she's serious.”

"When did she ever look unserious when she talked about divorce?”

"So, no need to go to the City Hall?”

Once, over drinks, Maxwell had mentioned to him that Rosemary now asked him when they would handle the procedures as soon as she saw him, driving him up the wall.

"For now, she's temporarily quieted down.”

Maxwell briefly outlined the deal between him and Rosemary.

Archer laughed after hearing it, "The cooperation between the Templeton Group and Horizon Technologies Ltd. is pretty much set in stone. You're getting something for nothing here. If I were Rosemary, I'd splash a drink in your face.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud "bang” sounded. It was the sound of the balcony door being pushed open.

Maxwell and Archer turned to the source of the sound, only to see Rosemary standing there with a cold face, lips bearing a ring of white marks from biting, her fists clenched into a fist at her side.

"Maxwell, to call you a dog would be an insult to dogs. You're just an ass!”

Maxwell's expression froze.

Rosemary took a deep breath, each word with venom, "And, I really do want to divorce you, I will definitely go to the court.”

As she spoke, she turned around, stopped a waiter passing by with drinks, snatched a glass, and splashed it right at that handsome face of the man.

For a moment, everyone present froze, holding their breath!

The next second, Maxwell's voice rang out in the hallway, sounding almost as if he was about to tear her to pieces, "Rosemary, you must be tired of living!”