Rosemary remained silent, and Martin didn't say a word either; he was waiting for her answer.
He wasn't usually this stubborn. He had planned to slowly approach her after she got involved in the Traversing City project, but lately, his gut had been screaming at him, telling him that if he let things slide, he would miss his chance again, just like three years ago.
Rosemary refused, "Let's not, okay?"
After hanging up, she stared into space for a moment before continuing to pack her things.
After leaving Heritage Revive Studio, Hogan drove straight back to the family estate.
The caller was Sylvia, who said that Violet must have heard some gossip about him being interested in a married woman and was now throwing a fit at home.
Hogan responded, "Just shut up, will you? Stop with the 'married woman' nonsense and don't say a word in front of Mom. We'll talk when I get back."
The Abbott elders lived in a large compound, and as soon as Hogan pushed open the door, he could hear Sylvia trying to calm their mother down, "Mom, don't listen to those gossip mongers. You know my brother's taste. Even if he goes for a divorcee, she'd be drop-dead gorgeous, highly talented, and the epitome of virtue—so good that if ten thousand people met her, twenty thousand would approve!"
She wanted to deny that her brother would go for a divorcee, but since he was indeed interested in a married woman, all she could do was praise her.
Hogan strode in, "Sylvia, if you can't give a compliment, just don't. What's with this ten thousand meeting her and twenty thousand approving? Where did the extras come from, the underworld?"
Sylvia puffed up her cheeks, "Well, they've got families, right? You can't expect all ten thousand to be orphans."
Their mother was livid when she saw Hogan, "You two, stop it. Hogan, I don't care how far things have gone with this woman. Call her right now and end it. If you don't, I'll call her myself."
Hogan was decked out in a no-nonsense parka, cargo pants, and boots, topped with a sharp buzz cut, looking like a sword drawn from its sheath.
He approached his mother with a rogue's grin, "Mom, what's this all about? Chasing after a lady is clearly my thing. No need for calls, just come at me."
With that, he shouted, "Nora, grab Dad's rattan cane and get Zack in here."
Zack was his dad's bodyguard.
After giving orders, Hogan stripped down to his torso, revealing a tight, lean body scarred with marks old and new from years of missions.
The house was AC-free that day, and his skin tensed up even more as it met the chill, his pecs and abs popping.
Mom Abbott was shaking with rage. Ever since Hogan joined the military, she hadn't been this mad, "Fine, let's see how stubborn you can be for a woman."
"Crack!"
The flexible cane lashed against his bare back, a red welt rising instantly. Zack was holding back, but he was still a trained man—the first hit drew blood.
Hogan clenched his teeth, swallowing the grunt that almost escaped, "Mom, I'm the one pursuing her, and she hasn't even said yes. And she's divorced now, not for her own doing but because her ex is a no-good jerk. Take it out on me. Even if I die today, I accept it. But if I live, treat her like your own daughter, please."
Sylvia's jaw could've dropped an egg, her brother was so lovesick.
Mom Abbott's head was pounding with anger. She hadn't planned on enforcing family discipline, but Hogan just waltzed in and set himself up for it, "You just can't shut up, can you? Zack, give it some elbow grease, don't hold back like you've skipped lunch."
"Crack... Crack... Crack..."


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