Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell's gaze landed on Rosemary's face, utterly expressionless, "No need for me to call Victoria now, huh? For Martin's sake, you really are willing to swallow any bitterness."

He reached out towards her, and as Rosemary caught sight of his cold, angry eyes, she couldn't shake off the feeling that he might be reaching to choke the life out of her.

She leaned back slightly, dodging Maxwell's touch. His hand paused mid-air, and then clenched into a fist, "About the divorce."

He left his sentence hanging there, as if he was deliberately keeping her on tenterhooks. Rosemary watched him, her lips slowly pressed.

With a casual look, the man's polite, indifferent face twisted into a nasty smirk, "Not gonna happen."

Rosemary clenched her teeth in silent fury. Fricking douchebag!

She was already a powder keg of pent-up emotions, and his teasing just lit the fuse. She exploded!

"Get out."

Maxwell nonchalantly closed his eyes, "Drive. Don't forget you still owe me money. Even without marital obligations, it's only fair you work off your debt as a driver. A debtor snarling more than the creditor - who'd lend you money after this?" This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

Rosemary lifted her chin and sneered, got out, pulled open the door, and without a sliver of courtesy, yanked Maxwell out of the car.

Logically, with a man's strength and natural weight advantage, he shouldn't have been pulled out so easily, but somehow, Rosemary managed just that!

She slammed the car door shut with a thud, slid back into the driver's seat, and drove towards the exit.

It was an engagement party today, and everyone was dressed lightly. The night air was as biting as a knife, stinging the skin. Just the few minutes of getting out, dragging a person, and getting back in, her fingers were already numb with cold. She warmed them up by the aircon vent before they regained feeling.

She glanced at the rearview mirror. Maxwell was still standing there, his eyes, narrow and deep, staring intently in her direction.

Was he going to freeze to death? The thought had barely crossed Rosemary's mind when she squashed it. The Sullivan family wouldn't just ignore Maxwell standing out there; their villa was one of the early purchases in an area that had since been developed, so it wasn't isolated.

The roads were busy. As Rosemary drove off, she saw plenty of empty taxis, so she completely let go of her worry.

Once home, Rosemary headed straight to the bathroom to remove her makeup, shower, and put on a face mask. By the time she finished, it was almost eleven o'clock.

She crawled into bed, planning to scroll through her phone before sleeping. Just as she opened a video app, Maxwell's call came in.

She stared at the name on the screen, hesitating for a few seconds before answering, "What's up?"

"Spring Hospital. Come and sign."

It wasn't Maxwell on the other end. She froze for a few seconds before recognizing the voice, "Archer?"

She wasn't close with Archer, having met him just a few times and heard him speak. The voice through the phone sounded different than in person, so she wasn't sure.

His tone was flat and cold as he briefly explained, "Maxwell had a car accident on the way back. The doctor needs a next-of-kin to sign the critical condition notice. If you can't make it in twenty minutes, I'll just get the doctor to prepare the DNR."

Rosemary's brain buzzed, and she reflexively sat up in bed, "How did he get in a car accident?"

"Surprised by a car accident? People are getting into them every minute around the world. You leave a drunk man there, he drives drunk, and not dying on the spot is just good luck!"

Archer gave her the floor number and hung up. Frantically changing, Rosemary rushed out the door.

Family consent was needed for resuscitation, and she couldn't tell Pearl, so it was up to her. Even after she got in the car and gripped the steering wheel, she was still in a daze.

Maxwell did smell of alcohol, but he was completely coherent during their argument, and his body didn't seem out of control. The road from the Sullivan family to Meadowlark Retreat was wide with few cars. Even drunk driving shouldn't have led to a critical condition notice!

Rosemary drove like a bat out of hell, making right turns, U-turns, and running red lights. The steering wheel slipped in her hands, and she realized they were slick with cold sweat.

A trip that usually took over half an hour was done in fifteen minutes. Archer's given room number was on the fifth floor. She sprinted to the elevator, pressed the button, and finally had a moment to catch her breath.

Leaning against the elevator's metal wall, Rosemary panted heavily, glancing at the floor directory above.

Fifth floor - Gastroenterology.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and when the doors opened, she saw Archer waiting outside. He was casually dressed with a shirt and a light-grey overcoat, black trousers; the hospital's ghastly light cast upon him, giving him a filtered aura.

Indeed, the good-looking flocked together, and the nasty ones played in their own league.

Still, since they weren't close, even with the anger bubbling inside her, she managed to hold back from blowing his head off right there. Rosemary stepped out of the elevator with a frosty face, "What's going on?"

Only now did she feel her legs go weak, her whole body drained.

Archer drawled lazily, "He's in room 507. I'm going back to sleep."

"You said he was in a car accident?"

The man raised an eyebrow, a taunting smile playing on his lips, "Ms. Chambers, so cold-hearted. If I hadn't said it was a car accident and he was dying, would you have come?"

No way. Not only would she not have come, but she would have turned off her phone and gone to sleep!

"He's got a stomachache. There's a 24-hour diner downstairs; you can buy him some porridge later. Lean meat porridge, no green onions."

Rosemary, still holding back her fury, couldn't help but sneer mockingly for the realization of being clearly instructed, "Since you're so concerned about him, why don't you stay and take care of him yourself? Aren't you afraid I'll take care of him so badly he'll get worse?"

Archer gazed down at her, seeing nothing but fury in her eyes, which made those sharp ones pop even more. Her face was flushed, probably from racing over here, still catching her breath. "If it weren't for Maxwell, Ms. Chambers, you'd probably be busting your back in some godforsaken coal mine, right? Been living the high life all these years, haven't you?" He was sugarcoating it, only out of respect for Maxwell.

The sold woman wasn't nearly lucky enough to strike coal! He went on, "Back in the day, even if Maxwell got a little frisky after a few drinks and pushed himself on you, he didn't have to marry you. No offense, but you ain't exactly worth your weight in gold. When someone throws you a bone, you gotta show a little gratitude, right?"