Last night, Maxwell was summoned to the Night Club by a call from Archer.
When he pushed open the door to the private room, he was surprised to see Martin there too, nursing some injuries, dressed casually in a sweater and pants, with a drink in hand.
Maxwell frowned and walked over.
Archer sat between them, but neither Maxwell nor Martin acknowledged each other. The tension was palpable, even the server pouring drinks stood rigidly, trying to blend into the shadows.
Archer, lounging back with his legs crossed, squinted at the two of them giving each other the silent treatment. He finally spoke, "Are you guys serious? After all these years of friendship, you're going to let a little fight turn you into strangers? Come on, cut it out."
He had arranged this meet-up to mend fences.
Maxwell, his voice low and cold, tinged with barely contained irritation, retorted, "I've got nothing to say to him."
Archer shot back, "Zip it. What are you, in grade school? You gonna give each other the silent treatment forever?"
Maxwell glared, visibly irked, and waved it off, "Whatever, I'll let it slide today, seeing as you're not in the best of moods after your divorce."
Upon hearing the divorce news, Martin paused mid-drink, then after a few seconds, tilted his head back and drained his glass.
Archer pinched the bridge of his nose, finally getting a taste of what his old teacher felt like trying to get him to play nice with others. He was a hair's breadth away from giving each of them a slap to knock some sense into them. "Martin, Maxwell's just pissed about how you treated Rosemary. Just tell him you'll treat her like a sister from now on, and we can put this to bed."
Martin’s voice was gravelly, roughened by the alcohol, "Impossible. Ask him, what did he do back then?"
Archer was at a loss for words...
Maxwell's face darkened, his eyes shimmering with deep, unspoken thoughts, staring down Martin with a menacing glare, "Even if I had done nothing back in the day, you and her? No chance."
Martin raised an eyebrow, his tone light yet laced with a subtle challenge, "Hypotheticals, who can really tell?"
"So, you're doomed to lose her. You couldn't even be sure to marry her before she was taken, much less now."
The girls the Gellar family had set Martin up with had all been single, from wealthy backgrounds, and impressive in their own right.
"I might not have been able to go against the tide to marry her back then, but now, I'm the one who calls the shots in my marriage," Martin's gaze fixed on Maxwell's face, "Now that you two are divorced, she's free, and so am I. Going after her is only proper."
The challenge was clear.
Watching the two of them go back and forth, not giving an inch, Archer stood up, "I need a smoke."
He hadn't gone far when he lit a cigarette, the pale smoke obscuring his handsome features. Someone came out of the next room just then, and Archer's eyes casually swept over the interior.
The dimly lit room was packed with men and women, their faces barely discernible.
His gaze lingered on one individual before he let out a 'tsk'.
After finishing his cigarette, Archer asked a nearby server, "Who booked that room?"
Recognizing Archer, the server replied respectfully, "A guest by the surname Abbott, a newcomer from the Abbott family on Nanshan Road."
Archer returned to the private room, where the standoff was still in full swing. He cut right to the chase, approaching Maxwell, "Rosemary's in the next room, surrounded by a bunch of guys."
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