Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

“Rosemary,” Mrs. Ferber’s voice startled her from her thoughts. Rosemary had been a bit lost when the sudden sound made her jump. “Are you feeling alright? You look somewhat pale.”

Rosemary, who wasn’t wearing any makeup, didn’t look the least bit unwell.

It seemed Mrs. Ferber was just trying to strike a conversation since she noticed Rosemary falling behind the group.

The group was close enough to overhear her and halted in their tracks.

When Rosemary looked up, she met the sleazy gaze with Mr. Ferber’s small eyes. Noticing her stare, he gave her a cryptic smirk before promptly reverting back to his amicable and honest demeanor he had upon first meeting.

He transitioned so quick that only she caught it.

Maxwell frowned, “Not feeling well?”

Her irate appearance when she answered the door in the morning seemed quite energetic.

Rosemary, preferring to avoid the spotlight, shook her head, “No, it’s just that I’m not used to the bed here, didn’t sleep well.”

Maxwell looked at her with distinct disdain as he flagged down one of the readily available resort carts, saying neutrally, “Well, that’s enough of that. Let’s take a ride.”

Rosemary glanced at the clubhouse only a few hundred meters away, “No need.”

Before her sentence was finished, Maxwell had already stepped in, forcibly grabbing her hand and leading her to the cart, “Not used to the bed? You were quite content when you moved out of

Meadowlark Retreat. Never mentioned this particular problem before.”

His voice was heavy with sarcasm, clearly doubting her excuse.

Rosemary responded with a sparkling smile, “Even the most comfortable socks wear out over time. You can’t keep something just because you like it forever, or it will become utterly disgusting.”

Maxwell narrowed his eyes, his tone severe and frosty, “Are you implying something about me?”

There was a quiet pause after which Rosemary, changing the subject, remarked, “You know, I just realized you have some redeemable qualities.”

Having self-awareness and the acuity to read between the lines. A real brainiac for sure.

While the two engaged in this verbal duel, Mrs. Ferber had already boarded the cart. She couldn’t resist expressing her envy seeing Rosemary with Maxwell, “Rosemary, you and Mr. Templeton seem quite close.”

Mr. Ferber’s gaze faltered somewhat.

All Rosemary could offer was an awkward laugh, not knowing what else to say, especially with Maxwell’s grip on her hand—making them look like a model couple to onlookers.

At the golf course, she immediately wore sunglasses and comfortably lounged in a chair to catch up on sleep, her erratic sleep schedule due to continuous night outs over the past few months combined with the evident struggle in adjusting to new places has been keeping her up. Last night, she had a restless night until 3 am.

“Ms. Chambers,” Mr. Ferber’s voice, deliberately lowered, oozing sleaze, “You and Mr. Templeton aren’t truly married, right? How much does he pay you to stay? I’m willing to pay twice.”

Rosemary turned her head to find Maxwell and Mrs. Ferber absent. She then removed her sunglasses and tossed out a number nonchalantly, “Three hundred million.”

Her marriage to Maxwell had been a secret, and though they revealed it at Pearl’s birthday party a few days back, no reporters were around, so only the guests knew her true identity.

It was not surprising that Mr. Ferber, residing in Zion City, was oblivious.

Initially, Mr. Ferber was charmed by Rosemary’s beauty, but her “three hundred million” response left him agape, “Three hundred million? Are you still not fully awaking from your dream? Even the most beautiful dancer I have doesn’t charge that much. She’s been training in dance from a young age, do you think you can compete with her?”

Only a madman would speed three hundred million on a woman. He didn’t even invest that much on his own wife.

“The most beautiful dancer?” Rosemary looked at him with a hint of surprise, “Victoria?”

Victoria was the only person known to her who was recognized as “the most beautiful dancer” by media and public.

Mr. Ferber arrogantly nodded, as if boasting, “Exactly, her. Who else would fit the title?”

“Heh,” Rosemary scoffed sarcastically, “You’re really something.”

With that, she dismissed him and looked away.

She could tell if Maxwell came to know of Mr. Ferber bragging about Victoria, Mr. Ferber would face serious consequences. However, she wasn’t gracious enough to warn him about it. It would be best if he boasted about it in front of Maxwell.

When two dogs fight over a bone, a third runs away with it!

Rosemary first found the golf course noises irritating, but she eventually gave in and dozed off.

In her sleep, she felt a gentle nudge and a faint voice calling her name.

Rosey?

In a semi-sleepy state, Rosemary’s eyes fluttered open to find a flawlessly handsome face. Startled, her thoughts snapped back instantly, and she almost jumped out of her chair.

Maxwell’s face was stern with a fierce glint in his eyes. Seeing her sit up, he maintained his composure, “Now that you’re awake, let’s go. What are you, a pig? Sleeping wherever you wish, aren’t you afraid of being taken advantage of?”

With his hand carelessly in his pocket, he sauntered off without waiting for Rosemary.

She closed her eyes, rubbed her face, and leisurely got up from the chair.

Well, it must have been a dream. How could that jerk Maxwell calling her “Rosey”?

After regaining her composure and following the group, Mr. and Mrs. Ferber were already changed and waiting outside. They had lunch nearby, and the afternoon was spent exploring the vast and scenic resort, treating the rare break from their busy schedules as a mini vacation.

Dinner was at the restaurant, and it was only then that Rosemary found out the deal had been signed. Entertaining thoughts of leaving by tomorrow at the latest, she was overjoyed, so she stuck around for a few extra rounds of drinks with Mrs. Ferber.

The fruit wine was sweet and velvety, not too strong, but had a surprising kick to it after a while.

Mrs. Ferber affectionately held Rosemary’s hand: “Rosemary, I feel a strong connection to you, you know? It’s a pity our stay has been this brief. We really haven’t had the chance to really chat. When you and Mr. Templeton come to Zion City, I’ll make sure to give you a grand welcome and show you around.”

Feigning enthusiasm, Rosemary replied with a "Sure!" but, in reality, she had no intention of accepting. Not only was she not that close with Mrs. Ferber, but even if they were besties, she didn’t have the slightest desire to mingle with Maxwell again.

After the meal, Mr. Ferber suggested going to the club upstairs. Rosemary, pretending to be drunk, mentioned she had to go back to her room to get some rest, and insisted they enjoy without her.

The club and the hotel had separate elevators, and Rosemary apologetically said: “I’m really sorry, my alcohol tolerance seems off. I have to excuse myself, Mr. and Mrs. Feber. Enjoy the club, it has an acclaimed reputation in Greenwood for its world-class service. It’s definitely worth experiencing.”

Maxwell shot her an icy glare.

Rosemary didn’t pay any heed to his behavior; he’d been wearing a poker face the entire night, as though everyone around had borrowed money from him.

Frowning as if feeling unwell, she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Ferber, enjoy yourselves. I’ll get back to my room.”

Upon turning away, Maxwell snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her right back into his arms, “I’ll skip the club, my wife isn’t feeling well. I’ll accompany her back to rest.” Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

He then turned to Chris, who practically faded into the background these past two days, and ordered, “Take good care of Mr. and Mrs. Ferber.”

Once they were by themselves, Rosemary's dramatized drunken demeanor abruptly dispersed. She pushed away from him despite the act she was putting on moments ago.

“I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need an escort. Return to your own room.”

“Not drunk? Great,” Maxwell said, his face clouded with displeasure, as he pulled her toward the direction of the room, “I just so happen to have something to ask you.”