Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Martin was checking out the menu when he heard the comment. Looking up at Rosemary, who was quietly sipping her lemon water, he didn't hesitate to say, “Rosemary wouldn't pull a stunt like that. If she’s gonna introduce someone to me, she’d ask for my two cents first. Miss Stacey, if you get a kick out of stirring the pot, do me a solid and find another table, will ya?”

Rosemary looked up in surprise.

Her bond with Martin wasn’t tight to the point where he’d trust her with no questions asked. If it had been back in the day, he would’ve brushed it off with some noncommittal chitchat that spared both their blushes.

She’d seen him handle women way more troublesome than Stacey without losing his cool like this.

Stacey’s face turned beet red; she was mortified enough to wish she could just disappear into a hole in the ground.

Though Martin’s voice wasn’t loud and the tables weren’t close, the place was packed, and she felt like all eyes were on her. Even the whispers she couldn’t make out seemed to be mocking her.

Biting her lip, she whispered on the verge of tears, “Martin, you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t. My sister really did say she’d introduce us.”

Martin replied, “Sorry, I’m not into the whole strangers calling me Martin. You can call me ‘Mr. Gellar’.”

Rosemary couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Guys are just natural BS detectors, aren’t they? It’s not like they can’t tell a conniving little bitch from someone in sheep’s clothing; it’s just a matter of whether they’re down to be played.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Maxwell, on the other hand, was all about being played, and happy about it, too.

This time, Stacey couldn’t keep her cool. She hadn’t expected a seemingly sophisticated dude like Martin to diss a girl like that, especially in front of Rosemary.

It was like he’d ripped off her face and stomped on it.

She couldn’t keep up the facade anymore. Standing up abruptly, she glared at the two of them with eyes red with rage and said, “You guys are way out of line.” Then she spun on her heel and bolted.

But as soon as she was out of the restaurant, she regretted it—she’d footed the bill, after all. Why should she skip out on the meal?

Stacey turned back and picked a spot that was hidden yet offered a view of Rosemary, before she started snapping photos with her phone.

She was determined to make that couple pay.

Rosemary gave Martin the cliff notes version of the whole mess. “Sorry, I was actually planning to ask you out for a meal and talk about it then. I didn’t expect to bump into this drama today.”

Martin chuckled helplessly, “You should’ve told me sooner. Is she going to use your mother’s keepsakes to blackmail you now?”

“There’s probably nothing left of my mom’s stuff,” Rosemary brushed off the topic, “I just didn’t expect you to be so blunt.”

“I’m the kind of guy who stands up for my friends. Can’t stand to see them being pushed around by nobodies.”

That's not exactly what 'standing up for friends' means, but she can't really fault him there.

After they finished eating, Martin dropped Rosemary off at her apartment building, “Get some rest early.”

“Sure, thanks again for the place. I’ve transferred the rent to you, make sure you check.”

She’d checked the local rental prices earlier and paid him a grand more than market rate—it was only fair since his place was really move-in ready and spotlessly clean, even the bedding was provided.

Maxwell had been back-to-back meetings all day, which kept him super busy. By the time he saw Rosemary’s messages, several hours had passed.

As he stared at his phone screen, the coarse words made his temples throb with anger.

He dialed Rosemary’s number, “I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is currently busy.”

Fifteen minutes later, he tried again, still the same.

Looking at Rosemary’s name on the screen, he was so livid that he almost laughed; his eyes were chilling enough to turn everything to ice.

Just then, Christ walked in with some documents for him to review. Maxwell said, “Send Rosemary a message. Tell her if she doesn’t move back to Meadowlark Retreat, she might as well sleep on the streets.”

Christ said nothing.

As he had been dealing with Ms. Chambers’ landlord these past few days to pressure her, and he had just spoiled her new rental deal today. His conscience was taking a beating. He figured if Mr. Templeton kept this up, he was going to end up wifeless. The atmosphere in the CEO's office of the

Templeton Group had been so tense that it was like walking on eggshells: “Mr. Templeton, with Ms. Chambers’s temper, she’d rather sleep on the streets than move back because of your threats.”

Otherwise, how would she not come back until now?

Seeing Maxwell unfazed, Christ tentatively added, “Maybe you should buy her a gift to smooth things over? Women usually prefer a softer approach.”

Maxwell gave him a dark look, “She slapped me and I should buy her presents? You think I’m like you, a dignity-free lapdog?”

Christ’s college love saga was an open book to him. After getting dumped, he had shamelessly chased after the same girl, who now had a new beau and gave him zero attention.

Christ: Way to hit where it hurts, man!

“Mr. Templeton ain’t no lapdog, he’s the boss. I'll send the message to Ms. Chambers right away, word for word, making sure your message gets through.”

Rosemary got Christ’s text right when she was lying on the soft bed of her apartment after a shower.

After reading it, she scoffed, completely ignoring it.

The next day, Rosemary hit up an art supply store to replenish some tools. She hadn’t bothered with the suspension from the studio—after all, she had agreed it was a temporary gig, like a favor. She had a few freelance jobs on hand and this was the perfect time to get them done.

Maxwell, being unaware that she was Rose, wouldn’t interfere with her side gigs.

Thinking about it, Rosemary couldn't help but chuckle at herself. With Maxwell's clout, it would be a piece of cake for him to dig up the dirt if he really wanted to. It's just that, since he couldn't care

less, his underlings didn't put their backs into it.

If they had put in just a smidge more effort, they wouldn't have ended up with the ridiculous mix-up about her scrubbing floors at Heritage Revive Studio.

So, aside from a change of address, her life hadn't been rocked all that much.

In stark contrast to Rosemary's chill vibes, the atmosphere at the Templeton Group was a total dumpster fire. After watching yet another exec get torn by Mr. Templeton and emerged from the office with a face like he'd been through the wringer, Christ took a deep breath and step into the office.

"Mr. Templeton."

Maxwell stared blankly at the document in front of him. "Where did she crash last night?"

With no chance of renting a place or checking in a hotel, and without hitting up Yolanda's, where else could she go but back to the Templeton family mansion?

Christ, feeling like every hair on his body was standing on end, replied with a quivering voice: "Ms. Chambers spent the night at Mr. Gellar's apartment."