Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 1

"Martin, I want you."

"Rosemary Chambers, look closely who I am."

The lights suddenly flicked on, and Rosemary's eyes focused on the man above her, her pupils contracting in shock!

"Maxwell Templeton? How could it be you?!"

The man pinched her chin, his face showing extreme detachment, "Stepping into my bed, you should've known I'm not someone to mess with."

"It's not like that; I made a mistake."

Rosemary struggled to push him away, but it was too late. A tearing pain overwhelmed her, and she was consumed by the darkness of the night.

Afterwards, Maxwell tossed her a card, and Rosemary slapped him across the face! He ran his tongue over the corner of his lips, smirking sarcastically, "Isn't this what you wanted, hmm?"

That single sentence utterly broke Rosemary; she was out of options for regret.

"Maxwell, I don't want your money; I want you to marry me!"

Three years later, at the Meadowlark Retreat.

Rosemary watched the entertainment news on TV - the dancer Victoria Temple had an accident, tumbling off the stage into chaos.

A man in a suit strode through the crowd with an icy expression, scooped up the injured woman, and walked away from the scene.

It was just a profile shot, but after three years of marriage, Rosemary could recognize him even if just by a glimpse.

Last night, it was the same man who laid in bed, promising to come home early today. She looked over at the table where the meal she slaved over all afternoon has gone cold.

Rosemary stood up, and dumped the food straight into the trash. The irony was stark, with the fresh burn blisters on her fair hands against the emotionless act of trashing the meal.

After dumping the food, Rosemary went upstairs to pack her bags. She remembered, on the day they got their marriage certificate, they also signed a divorce agreement valid for three years - the same time Victoria would be abroad for her studies.

Even though there were still three months left, with Victoria's early return, she supposed the divorce agreement should be effective now.

Rosemary, suitcase in hand, descended the stairs and called Maxwell on her way out.

An impatient voice came through the phone, "What is it?"

Hearing his cold voice, Rosemary's grip on her phone tightened, her fingers whitening - clearly, he'd forgotten last night's promises. But then again, who would believe what a man said in bed?

"Have you eaten?"

Apparently he didn’t want to answer her trivial question; there was silence for a few seconds before he said, "If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. Busy."

His words were concise, and he hung up after speaking.

Later, Rosemary drove off in the most expensive car from the garage. It didn't seem special among the luxury cars, but once on the road, its ostentatious vibe was unmistakable.

She headed straight for the city's swankiest seven-star hotel and handed a Centurion black card to the receptionist, "The presidential suite, book it for three months."

The receptionist smiled and took the black card, "Certainly, ma'am. That will be 1.5 million. As you're booking the presidential suite, should you check out early, we'll charge a 30% cancellation fee."

Rosemary kept her cool, "Swipe it."

Tomorrow, she probably wouldn't be able to spend Maxwell's money anymore. The divorce agreement drafted by her lawyer split the assets in half, but if Maxwell didn't agree and decided to play hardball, leaving her with nothing wouldn't be a surprise.