Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Chapter 97

Before, Christ had come over to help Maxwell with some paperwork, so he knew where the study was. He made a beeline for the door, “Ms. Chambers, Mrs. Pearl Templeton sent me to check if you've found her report."

He'd overheard everything downstairs and knew there wasn't any report in the study.

Rosemary looked up, red around the eyes and as pale as a ghost. Her gaze was distant and vacant, as if she was looking through Christ rather than at him.

Christ asked, “Feeling under the weather?”

“No.” Rosemary pulled out a painting from the drawer without hiding it from Christ. As she moved to the door, she noticed his puzzled look at the painting in her hand and pushed it toward him, asking with a smile, “Pretty, isn’t it? I’m thinking of hanging it up on the bedroom wall.”

Christ was speechless. He eyed the dark and gloomy painting, swallowing hard.

Might be better suited for warding off evil spirits on the bedroom door, he thought to himself. He didn't say anything, but Rosemary could tell by his constipated expression that he knew what was up.

Back when she created that painting, her days with the Chambers family were tough as nails - crushed by her awful dad and stepmom, and constantly butting heads with Stacey, who seemed hell-bent on making her life a living nightmare. No wonder her mood was in the gutter. The fact that she didn't go on a midnight rampage with a knife was a testament to her lingering goodness.

A painting birthed from such a state of mind, with mood as its theme, was bound to be eerie and sinister. So when it sold, she thought she'd found some sucker with more money than sense, and her art teacher probably thought the same, dragging her off to buy lottery tickets a bunch of times.

But looking back, the real fool wasn’t the buyer - it was her. He'd made her life's canvas darker with just a small wad of cash, all to get a laugh from his girlfriend, plunging her headfirst into a whirlpool of verbal abuse.

Heading downstairs, Rosemary forced a smile when she met Pearl's anxious eyes, “Pearl, something came up. I’ll have Wendy go with you to the hospital for the check-up, okay? The doctor’s got copies of all the reports. You can just go straight there.”

“Okay.” Pearl gave Rosemary a careful once-over. Something wasn't right; she didn’t look happy at all. Testing the waters, Pearl asked, “Rosemary, did you see something special in Maxwell’s study? You don’t seem too chipper since coming down.”

Rosemary didn't want to worry Pearl, “Yeah, I saw something special. Not upset, just a bit shocked, so I need to find Maxwell.”

Hearing this, Pearl relaxed, patting her hand, “Alright, go find him. Couples should hash it out and not bottle things up. And don’t throw around talk of divorce; it’s bad mojo. I’ll have the driver take you.” All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“No need, I’ve got my car.”

Leaving the estate, Rosemary drove straight to the Templeton Group building, knowing exactly where to find Maxwell's office.

The receptionist tried to stop her, but when she said she was there to process her resignation, they let her through.

Everyone at the company knew Rosemary got her job through connections - easy work, high pay, and up-close access to Mr. Templeton. And since she left, the envy-inducing position was up for grabs.

Besides Christ, there was no one else close to Mr. Templeton now.

Christ was off accompanying Pearl for her check-up, so his assistant was the one who got in Rosemary's way.

“Ms. Chambers, do you have an appointment? You can't go in without one.”

Rosemary wasn't having any of it; she knew where Maxwell's office was and didn't need an escort, but the persistent hand blocking her path was driving her nuts, “Didn't Christ tell you who I am?”

The assistant, not as experienced in weathering storms as Christ, stuttered, “He did, but Ms. Chambers, Mr. Templeton has a guest right now. Maybe you could wait in the reception area?”

Rosemary saw right through his eagerness to shoo her away, raising an eyebrow, “Is it a woman?”

While they spoke, they had moved to the door, with Rosemary barging in.

Sure enough, inside was Victoria. Dressed in light hues, her long hair cascading down, partially hiding her cheek, she sat with a prim, crossed-leg posture, back straight as a rod. There was an air of lofty pride about her.

Caught off guard by Rosemary's sudden appearance, Maxwell furrowed his brow slightly, and gestured for the flustered assistant to leave, “You can go.”

The assistant, visibly relieved, whispered to Rosemary on his way out, “Ms. Temple only arrived half a minute before you.”

He was clearly trying to avoid any misunderstandings.

Victoria forced a smile, though clearly displeased. She knew her current status didn't grant her the luxury of displeasure, “Rosemary, I came to see Maxwell about...”

Rosemary didn't give her the time of day, not even a glance, as she made a beeline for Maxwell. Her stormy demeanor was a clear red flag for trouble.

Victoria was taken aback, but she instinctively stood and followed Rosemary to the desk.

Without a word, Rosemary swung her hand towards the man in the chair. The cold breeze of the slap rustled Maxwell's hair.

“Rosemary, have you lost your mind?” It was Victoria's voice, her short breaths revealing how furious she was at the moment. She grabbed Rosemary's hand, stopping the slap, “I’m here on business with Maxwell, along with our dance troupe manager, who just went to the restroom and didn’t enter with me. You come in swinging right away - are you really that jealous? Isn’t this a bit too much?”

Rosemary pulled her hand back with a chilly look and, in a swift backhand, slapped her across the face; then grabbed the coffee from the table and splashed it right in Maxwell's face.

The whole sequence flowed like water, so fast nobody could put a stop to it. Only after she'd done all that did Rosemary finally spoke up, "Is that a bit too much?"

She tossed the painting onto the desk, her eyebrows raised in mockery and disdain, "Aren't you the ones who are low-down, dirty, and sleazy? Over a petty school spat, you do something so utterly heartless. What goes around comes around, you know. Scumbags get their comeuppance. Sure, you've got thick skins; not even a lightning strike could take you down, but aren't you scared it'll come back to bite your kids? After all, doing such shady stuff, it's only normal for the curse to hit the next generation."

She rattled on non-stop, a little chatterbox, giving no one a chance to cut in. Rosemary didn't think she used to be this mean, never dragging parents or kids into her insults, but now, she was spewing words without a filter, which went to show just how livid she must be.

Maxwell hadn't said a peep since Rosemary barged in, his gaze fixed on the painting the whole time, until this moment when he finally said, "Apologize."