Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

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Punch after punch, with no finesse, just raw, brutal moves straight out of a primal male brawl.

Rosemary's voice was shaky with nerves, "Maxwell..."

Her shout did nothing to stop the man, who was so ticked off and beyond control; if anything, it made him hit even harder.

Martin wasn't one to fight often, and it was clear as day that he was getting the worst of it. Rosemary tried to grab Maxwell, but the man was so enraged he wasn't thinking straight and nearly threw her across the room.

But Rosemary was ready. When he tried to shake her off, she clung onto his arm like a lifeline, throwing all her weight on him.

Maxwell was strong, but not strong enough to shake off her grip.

The scuffle cooled off for a moment, and Maxwell's brain started to kick in again. But the rage and destructiveness inside him didn't dial down a notch. His face was stone-cold as his eyes bore into her, "Rosemary, you're protecting him?"

He remembered that time he fought Hogan. Rosemary had just walked away. The building security had to stop her from leaving, and even then, she just stood by like a casual spectator, as if she couldn't wait for them to finish so she could go to sleep.

But now, she was risking her neck jumping in front of him.

Guess there's a difference between caring and not giving a damn.

Rosemary glanced at Martin, who was a bloody mess. His face and clothes were covered in blood, and you couldn't tell where it was all coming from. Even though he was still on his feet, he looked like he was about to collapse any second.

Feeling her gaze, Martin looked up and flashed a half-grin, "I'm fine, don't worry."

Rosemary was drowning in guilt.

She just wanted to shake Maxwell off. He kept saying she was into Martin, so she might as well own up, but who knew this nutjob would lose it and go full-on berserker mode like he wanted to beat the guy to death.

You could tell Martin wasn't a fighter. If she hadn't stepped in, the morgue attendants would probably be clocking in for overtime.

Maxwell scoffed when he heard her, muscles tensing on his arm. Rosemary was still holding it, feeling every twitch.

She let go and stepped in front of Martin, "Enough!"

Maxwell's face was all twisted with mockery, "And what are you gonna do if I'm not done? Think standing in front of him makes him safe?" Looking at the smug man in front of her, Rosemary's palms itched. Man, she really wanted to slap him again.

What a jerk!

Outside, a mess of footsteps approached. The scuffle had stirred up the nurses, and now security was on the scene. They opened the door to find two bloody messes and a room trashed.

The first few on the scene froze, looked at each other, wondering whether to call the cops.

Seeing people arrive, Rosemary turned to help Martin up, "Doctor, please check him out."

Martin looked rough, and though the doctor was intimidated by Maxwell's presence, his duty to help won out, especially since Maxwell didn't look like he was gonna make a move.

He helped Rosemary support Martin and shouted outside, "Get a stretcher, rush him to surgery upstairs."

He was an ENT doctor, after all; this wasn't his turf.

After Rosemary and Martin left, Maxwell slumped down like he was out of juice, half-closing his eyes without a peep.

His shirt collar had lost a few buttons in the fight, now hanging loose. His trousers were wrinkled, and there was a long cut on the back of his hand, dripping blood.

The nurse approached tentatively, "Sir, you need to get that wound dressed. Let me help you to the door."

She would've wheeled in the stretcher, but the room was such a mess there was no way to even step through, let alone push a bed.

Maxwell didn't even open his eyes, just spat out a word, "Scram."

The nurse tried again, "Sir, you really should-"

"Get out," he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze cold and fierce, striking terror into the nurse, "Take everyone and leave."

The nurse shuddered and quickly ushered the others out.

And made sure to close the door behind her.

...

In the surgery wing, outside the dressing room.

Rosemary sat on the bench, Martin was inside getting patched up. He'd been in there a while, and she had no clue how bad it was.

Ten minutes later, Martin emerged, bandages wrapped around his forehead and hand, a doctor in a white coat trailing behind, "We've taken care of the wounds. Go pay for a CT scan to check for internal injuries."

Rosemary jumped up, "Okay, thank you, doctor."

The CT and billing were both on the first floor. She steadied Martin, "Can you walk? Or should I grab a wheelchair from reception?"

"I'm not a write-off, no need for a wheelchair."

Although Martin said that, Rosemary still slowed her pace, supporting him gently towards the elevator.

Martin's legs were fine; he and Maxwell had been aiming for each other's faces and midsections. But seeing her worry, he cracked a smile and didn't say a word.

"Sorry." "My bad."

They both spoke at once.

Rosemary looked up, their eyes met, and there was a brief silence before Martin said, "I didn't know you came looking for me back then..."

"It's water under the bridge." Rosemary shook her head. She'd been desperate, not having researched the Gellar family situation before reaching out. In hindsight, she realized she'd put him in a tough spot.

To keep Martin from feeling guilty, she put on a troubled face, "You were smart not to agree. I really couldn't pay back that much money."

She couldn't quite recall the exact amount she owed back then, but even after splitting the marital assets with Maxwell, she was still three billion in the hole. That debt was probably even bigger at the time.

Seeing Martin about to speak, Rosemary quickly changed the

he

subject. She didn't want to dwell on the past, "I'm sorry about today. was just trying to get away from Maxwell. I wasn't thinking straight when I dragged you into that

charade. I had no idea he'd go

berserk and start swinging."

"Rosemary," Martin grabbed her hand that was about to press the elevator button, "since we know that missing each other back then was just a twist

of fate, is there a chance now to set things straight?"

"What..." Rosemary was taken aback

at first, mainly because Martin's words were not exactly the most straightforward confession, so she mulled over his words again, and then it hit her that this was probably a love declaration. "Sorry, Martin, that ship has sailed for me, and

honestly, I really see you just as a friend now."

What she actually wanted to say was 'brother,' but considering their unequal family backgrounds, it felt a bit like taking advantage.

The elevator arrived, and Martin let go of her hand and got in.

Rosemary followed, but the air was understandably a bit awkward because of the incident.

Reaching the ground floor, she blurted out, "Wait here for me, I'll go pay, and then I'll take you to the CT room."

She was about to turn away when Martin caught her, his face breaking into a gentle smile again: "I'll handle it myself. Aren't you supposed to head home to grab some stuff for Ms. Abbott? Go take care of that."

Rosemary: "I can't just..."

"Go on," he insisted, taking the appointment card from her hand with a firmer tone, "I'm just a bit banged up, not so bad that I need someone to lean on. And don't beat yourself up about it, the brawl I had with Maxwell wasn't all about you."

Rosemary could tell Martin didn't want her tagging along, so she nodded, "Alright, call me if you need anything. I've got things to do."