Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Rosemary slammed on the brakes, and the florist holding the bouquet noticed her, comically fishing out his phone from his bag and comparing it to a photo.

Once he confirmed it was her car, he made a beeline for her.

At that moment, everyone in the studio was crowding at the door, rubbernecking. They had been there when the guy first showed up with that humongous bouquet; it was hard not to draw attention.

Rosemary's car was now parked outside the studio, and under all those watchful eyes, she couldn't just hightail it out of there without seeming like she was trying too hard to hide something, which wouldn't solve anything. She could only watch as the guy approached.

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Templeton?"

Even with the windows up, his booming voice was crystal clear. Rosemary was speechless for a moment, then parked properly and got out of the car.

"Mr. Templeton sent you these flowers. Could you please sign for them?"

No sooner had he spoken than the chorus of hoots and hollers from her colleagues began, one after the other. The studio crew was small and the work monotonous, with a broad range of ages, they didn't have the usual office politics, but their gossiping spirit was instantly awakened with the appearance of the bouquet.

They had all seen the trending topics yesterday, even the colleagues who barely followed the news had received the links. They never would have guessed that low-key Rose was actually Mrs. Templeton of the Templeton Group.

The Templeton family, now that was what they called old money! Who would have thought there was such a high roller right in their midst!

Rosemary eyed the delivery slip he was holding out, but didn't take it. The bouquet was so big that it was a struggle for him to hold it with one hand. His hand was shaking, but he persisted, trying to get her to sign.

To avoid her colleagues' prying eyes, Rosemary quickly scribbled her signature and said, "Just toss the flowers, will you?"

Hearing that, the guy unceremoniously plopped the flowers on the hood of her car, dropped a “thank you”, and bolted. No joke, if he threw away a client's order, how could he keep his business running!

Rosemary looked at the flowers on the hood, dodged her colleagues' curious glances, and got back into her car, calling the instigator, "Maxwell, what's your deal?"

Maxwell had just received a message from the florist a second ago, knowing the flowers had been delivered to Rosemary, and now, hearing her irate voice on the other end, he frowned, "Aren't you pleased?"

"Pleased my foot." Rosemary cursed, still having a bone to pick with him about last night's forceful advances, "If you'd just agree to get the divorce over with and stop sticking to me like a bad rash, then I'd be happy."

Silence on the other end.

Rosemary felt like she was punching cotton, her frustration burning with nowhere to go. Sensing her mood, Maxwell coolly replied, "Then I guess you're never going to be happy."

Grinding her teeth, Rosemary spat out each word, "Don't have anyone send flowers to the studio again." NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Then she added, "And not to the house, either."

"Aren't women supposed to love this kind of grand gesture?"

"Who the hell told you," Rosemary was livid, and then something clicked, "I said Victoria liked that kind of thing."

But recalling that that woman had already received the flowers and flaunted them, she sneered coldly, "You're really something, treating your wife and mistress the same, not even bothering to change the color of the flowers. You think you can have your cake and eat it too, but you're barking up the wrong tree."

On the other end of the phone, Christ watched as his boss's mood darkened from pleased to thunderous, and he couldn't help but wonder what bad luck had befallen him recently, always catching the flak.

Maxwell, hearing the busy tone at the other end of the line, then glanced at Christ, "How did the auction invite end up with Victoria?"

He had no intention of going, so he had Christ dispose of the invitation, but somehow, it had ended up in Victoria's hands, causing quite the misunderstanding.

Christ said, "I asked the cleaning staff from that day; someone had approached her and bought it off her, a man wearing a mask and hat, so she couldn't make out his face."

He watched Maxwell's expression cautiously, "As for whether Ms. Temple was behind it, we can't tell yet."

He had been busy with meeting materials and just tossed the invitation, which was flashy but ultimately useless and personally addressed. Even if someone actually took it, it wouldn’t cause any serious trouble at the auction. That was why he overlooked it.

Maxwell's gaze was icy as he regarded Christ, who felt his limbs go weak, his heart skipping a beat, already thinking about job hunting.

"Hand the man over to the police; get our legal department and run through legal procedure." Maxwell's voice was detached, "If this kind of amateur mistake happens again, I'll have to question your suitability for your current position."

Christ breathed a sigh of relief, escaping the worst, "Mr. Templeton, I assure you there won't be a next time."

He was about to bolt for fear that Maxwell might regret when the latter said, "Wait," and Christ froze, his body going stiff. Maxwell lowered his gaze, still pondering Rosemary's bizarre comment, "Check into Victoria's recent affairs, like whether she's received any flowers from someone."

The last sentence was cold as ice, sending a chill through the room. Christ was puzzled; did Mr. Templeton fancy Mrs. Templeton or Ms. Temple? Or did he want to have his cake and eat it too?

Though he had all sorts of thoughts, he maintained a strictly businesslike composure, "Will do."

Mrs. Templeton wasn't wrong; he felt like a chancellor trying to decipher the king's will.

In the end, Rosemary tossed the flowers in the trash and snapped a photo to send to Maxwell. She wasn't trying to get under his skin; she just wanted to give him the straight dope, “don't waste your time, buddy; I’m not biting.

In the short time she was distracted, Yolanda had bombarded her with messages, "That pic was posted by a junior who's interning at the Victoria dance troupe, openly gushing about how Maxwell spoils Victoria. And there's a whole fan club cheering them on. Are cheating dudes and mistresses getting shipped now? Does anyone even have moral compass?"

"I saw Victoria clarifying in the comments, telling people not to get it twisted and that she and Mr. Templeton are just pals. I could smell the BS through my screen."

"Damn it, I'm about to go and rip off her fake innocent facade."

Rosemary shot back a text telling her to let it slide, hoping that Victoria would keep doing the work so she could get her divorce over with sooner.

After being ribbed by her coworkers all day because of the morning's bouquet, she barely made it to the end of the workday. Stepping out, she saw Maxwell's flashy Bentley parked right outside the studio.

Rosemary frowned, losing patience, "What are you doing here?"

Maxwell replied, "Since you didn't dig the flowers, I figured I'd pick you up from work instead."