Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Pearl was taken aback, "Didn’t do it? Then that hickey on your neck?"

She cut herself off mid-sentence, eyes bulging, "Are you messing around with that Victoria chick again? Is that mark on your neck her handiwork? Are you trying to drive me up the wall? I'm telling you, I've never approved of you two, not then, not now!"

If there had been an extra pillow on the bed, she would've thrown it at him again for sure.

Maxwell instinctively touched his neck, "You've got it all wrong." He didn't elaborate, just frowned and headed for the bathroom.

Downstairs, Rosemary stepped out of the hospital into the blazing sun, and Yolanda texted her, inviting her out for dinner in the evening.

Since it was still early and she didn't have to go to the studio, she decided to hit the supermarket and picked up some essentials.

After work, Yolanda drove over to pick her up, "I nailed a huge deal today, so I'm gonna treat you to a fancy dinner to celebrate you finally shaking off Maxwell!"

Rosemary chuckled teasingly, "If your dad hears you say that, he'll whack you six ways from Sunday."

That dude was Maxwell, the economic powerhouse of Greenwood, the high-flying business hotshot - who would dare to cross him? If Maxwell heard Yolanda's words, it wouldn't just be their antique shop at risk; even the Abbott Group might not make it through unscathed.

"I'm just venting to you; don't you know me by now?"

When they got to the dinner spot, Rosemary couldn't quite believe her eyes at the dazzling lights of the club, "This is your idea of a fancy dinner?"

Night Club was Greenwood's ritziest joint - pricey with all the bells and whistles - yet the food was infamously bland. But let's be real, no one came here for the grub.

"A five-figure splurge not good enough for you? Tonight, we're partying hard, no going home sober! I've been so over your bland nun-like life, props to you for sticking it out for three years. Maxwell used to hit this place up all the time; now it's our turn to live it up!"

For the past few years, Rosemary's life was all about the company and home, running back and forth like a nun - a far cry from her wild, carefree pre-marriage self.

As the server led the way, Yolanda noticed Rosemary's lack of enthusiasm and thought she was down about her divorce, "If you're feeling blue, just let it all out later. Cry your heart out - it's just us tonight; I won't tease." NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

Rosemary didn't feel like crying. The thing was nothing had gone as planned today. She was so bummed precisely because the divorce hadn't happened, plus Pearl's situation was weighing on her.

She said quietly, "I didn't get divorced."

The club was too noisy; Yolanda didn't catch that, "What?"

"Maxwell and I, we didn't get divorced today."

Once Yolanda grasped what she said, silence fell, and after a bit, she asked uncertainly, "You don't want to divorce him, do you?"

Rosemary's feelings for Maxwell were obvious to Yolanda - sure, he had been distant after the marriage, but he never skimped on material things. When Rosemary was at her wits' end, he was the one who pulled her from the brink.

Women tend to be emotional, often developing special feelings for a knight in shining armor. Plus, they had three years of marriage under their belt.

Rosemary didn't respond for a long time. It wasn't that she didn't want to divorce; in fact, she was very firm about it. But today's events weren't something she could easily explain.

Yolanda, in her self-assured way, continued, "If you don't wanna split, just find an excuse to stall! Or tip off your mother-in-law, tie him down. Given how much she adores you, if she knew what Maxwell did, she'd break his legs for sure!"

Rosemary couldn't help but laugh at her wild imagination, curious to hear more of what she'd say, "And then what?"

"Just keep him hanging; men are such scoundrels - the less attention you give them, the more they treasure you. Look at Victoria; she's a master of playing hard to get. If you could pick up even a fraction of her skills, Maxwell would be eating out of your hand!"

Chatting away, they entered their private room. Around the corner in the corridor, a man who had overheard most of their conversation told the server, "Let's go to the third floor."

Night Club was all about hierarchy, with membership cards reflecting social status. Given Archer's standing, he should've been on the top floor, but he'd just happened to spot his buddy's wife here. Plus, he'd noticed a couple of shady groups eyeing them.

Archer called Maxwell's number, "Hey, your wife's at Night Club."

Maxwell was just dropping off Victoria at her place, after she'd heard about Pearl being hospitalized and decided to visit - only to get kicked out by Pearl after a barrage of cold taunts.

After Maxwell heard this call, his brow furrowed, "What's she doing there?"

"Talking about playing hard to get with you, leaving you high and dry, making you crazy for her. Even mentioned getting your mom to hold you back, so you don't have a chance to divorce."

His eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming inscrutable. Archer didn't say much more, just reported the room number and hung up.

"Maxwell, what's up?" In the car, Victoria sensed his mood drop after the call, the atmosphere turning icy.

Maxwell shook his head, said nothing, and after stopping the car, "You go up on your own. You're still healing from that injury, so don't rush into dancing."

"Maxwell," Victoria bit her lip, "are you still mad at me for mentioning Martin to Rosemary yesterday?"

Maxwell frowned, lit a cigarette, and as the smoke dispersed, it veiled his current mood, "No, just stay away from her in the future."

"Was it me who provoked her? I merely mentioned a name and she got violent. Have you spoiled her too much?" By the end, her voice rose slightly, filled with resentment.

Finishing his cigarette, Maxwell crushed the butt with a calm demeanor, "I've got to run. I have things to do. If you need compensation for yesterday, just name it."

Victoria glared at him, fuming to the point where her eyes were rimmed red, "Compensation? And who are you to do it for her? She's the one who hit me; she should be the one apologizing."

Then, she held back her voice, and let out a long sigh, "Alright, you want to make it up on her behalf, huh? Fine. Then divorce her and marry me!"