Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell, with Christ in tow, strolled over to their side. A glance at his inscrutable expression revealed neither happiness nor anger.

Halting in front of Rosemary, he extended his hand to cup her chin, and his intense gaze studying her face, marked by the evidence of a harsh slap. Her face was swollen, her lip was cut and smeared in blood.

Maxwell glanced over at Mr. Ferber, who was too consumed with guilt to meet his gaze. Maxwell broke into a smile, and, with a voice as cool as a river oozing out of his throat, said, “Mr. Ferber, you’ve assaulted my woman. How do you intend to address this?”

Was this a proposition to negotiate?

Mr. Ferber’s heart, which was thudding dangerously against his throat, found its way back to its spot. He grinned and said, “I’ll give you an additional twenty percent on the profits.”

Upon studying Maxwell’s face and finding no discernible reaction, he reluctantly aded after gritting his teeth, “Thirty percent, I’ll sacrifice thirty percent of the profits.” NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

This was a significant loss—those thirty percent were equivalent to much more than three hundred million dollars This loss was killing him!

Maxwell ordered Christ, “Fetch the contract.”

At his words, Rosemary felt her heart sink.

Although she never held him in high regard, hearing him exploit the situation still sent a shiver down her spine and left her feeling disappointed.

She noticed Mr. Ferber’s smirk—an expression replete with disdain and devoid of any remorse.

Was Rosemary let him escape the consequences that easily?

“Maxwell, Mr. Ferber was bragging that keeping your sweetheart Victoria,” she said. “Given Victoria’s cold and aloof nature, I bet she was coerced.”

Since when did Victoria become Mr. Templeton’s sweetheart?

Before Mr. Ferber could wrap his heads around it, Maxwell delivered a kick that knocked him to the ground!

Maxwell was no weakling; that kick sent the rotund man flying several feet in the air, probably striking his gut. The sudden attack made Mr. Ferber nauseous, vomiting on spot mixed with gushes of blood.

Maxwell ambled over, his shiny shoes barely making a sound on the plush carpet.

But Mr. Ferber was trembling uncontrollably, kneeling in the mess, pleading for mercy!

“Mr. Templeton, it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve never laid a finger on Ms. Temple, I’ve only glimpsed her from afar at a party. Had I known about your relationship with her, I wouldn’t have the audacity to joke about her, regardless of how ten times more courageous I would've been.”

Moving closer, Maxwell took a final step, crushing Mr. Ferber’s fingers that were pressed against the carpet in his path.

The sharp pain made Mr. Ferber feel as though his fingers were about to break. Cold sweat broke on his forehead as he gasped, “Maxwell, we’ve just signed a deal, we’re supposed to work together long-term. Why let a mere misunderstanding damage our partnership? And I really haven’t touched Ms. Temple!”

At that moment, Christ strode in with the contract, “Mr. Templeton, the contract.”

Maxwell peered down at the man kneeling before him, displaying a mock smile, “Partnership, you say?”

Then, with a rip, the thick stack of contract papers was torn in half.

Mr. Ferber couldn’t believe his eyes as Maxwell casually tore apart a contract worth billions!

In that instant, it felt as though the world had collapsed. His company had strived several months to secure this deal!

Enraged, he blurted out, “Maxwell, you’re violating the contract, you’ll have to bear the penalty!”

“Penalty? I can afford it. Dare you ask for it?” Maxwell sneered. “Our partnership ends here. The Templeton Group will abstain from all dealings with any firm that maintains ties with you. No company that associates with us will engage with any of yours.”

This wasn’t just about monetary loss; this was a death sentence!

With Maxwell’s statement, who would dare risk offending the Templeton Group to associate with his firm?

“Mr. Templeton, I recognize my error. Please forgive me. We can renegotiate the shares; you can have any percentage you wish, consider it as compensation to Ms. Temple.”

As he pleaded, he repeatedly slapped his own face, “It’s my fault for speaking without thinking, please disregard my words as nothing more than blatant lies and forgive my audacity. Henceforth, I’ll mobilize my entire firm to support Ms. Temple’s performances!”

Maxwell’s countenance morphed into an icy mask. He stood up, inclined himself slightly, and commanded Christ, “Make him eat it.”

Christ gestured toward Mr. Ferber, “Please proceed.”

Seeing him not moving, Christ added, “Mr. Templeton has given an order. You’re going to eat that contract one way or another. Whether you voluntarily eat it or we forcibly inserted into your belly, the choice is yours.”

“I’ll eat it, I’ll do it right away. Please, plead for mercy on my behalf. I’m merely bragging, I never really did anything to Ms. Temple!”

He grabbed the shredded contract and crammed it into his mouth, in such haste that saliva mixed with blood dripped down the corners of his mouth.

Rosemary observed the scene unfolding before her eyes, a myriad of emotions washing over her.

Never did she anticipate that a mere mention of “Victoria” would invoke such a powerful reaction. Without verifying the authenticity, Maxwell was readily prepared to forgo billions for her. She thought about how she humbled herself for this contract, acting as an ornament for two days and enduring her disgust to chat with Mr. Ferber.

She had bent over backward for a debt, controlled and manipulated by Maxwell, while Victoria, without having to show her face, merely on a rumor—true or false—was able to make him willingly sacrifice hundreds of billions for her.

The stark contrast made her role as Mrs. Templeton seem utterly worthless!

No longer Abel to watch, she turned to Martin, “Martin, could you give me a lift back, or maybe lend me your car?”

The resort was located in the suburbs; taxis were barely available. She was unwilling to bother Yolanda by seeking her help at such late hours.

Martin withdrew his gaze from the spectacle, “Let’s go.”

Noticing their departure, Maxwell swiftly stepped ahead, seizing her wrist in his grip, his voice strained, and gaze unwavering from her swollen face, he asserted, “I’m taking you to the hospital for that injury on your face.”

Rosemary declined, her tone carefree, “There’s no necessity to trouble yourself, Mr. Templeton.”

She wriggled her hand free from Maxwell’s clasp, but how could Maxwell let her walk away with Martin like that?

He stated with a firm resolve, every word emphasized, “I said I’ll take you. There’s no reason for involving outsiders in our personal affairs, right? Martin’s here enjoying himself with friends. Do you consider it right for him to abandon his friends to take you home? Besides, he’s not obliged to.”

Martin frowned slightly, “It’s just a two-hour drive to Greenwood. I can drop her off and head back; it won’t hinder my plans.”

Maxwell turned to Martin, his brows gradually knitting together, as if he was holding back, or about to spew out his anger at any moment.