Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Maxwell knew what Rosemary was up to the moment she reached out, but he didn't budge, letting her snatch the phone away.

A quick glance at the screen, which was still locked, with messages and missed calls notifications hanging there.

Maxwell didn't check it? Then what was he doing staring at his phone screen all this time?

Poking at the phone and sounding none too pleased, Rosemary asked, "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, you hogged my bed; where else am I supposed to be? Or are you bummed I didn't crash with you?" Maxwell probably hadn't slept a wink all night, red streaks clear as day. His jacket was tossed aside carelessly, leaving him in just a thin shirt and dress pants, with the top few buttons undone, giving off a vibe of laziness and casualness that wasn't usually his style.

Rosemary looked up at him in disbelief, "How can you keep a straight face, looking all suave and dapper, while spewing such shameless crap?"

Was that what she meant? She was asking why he didn't just roll off to another room to sleep, instead of hanging around on the couch like a ghost all night, God knew fantasizing about what while she was asleep.

The thought alone gave her the creeps.

Maxwell ignored her sarcasm, "What's with your phone wallpaper?"

Her wallpaper was a hand-drawn cartoon that, if not for the fact that it was a spitting image of Maxwell in his usual attire - minus the head, with "I'll knock your block off" written beside it, wouldn't have been so odd.

Maxwell continued, "You really want to knock my block off, huh?"

"Isn't it obvious? Don't you know how annoying you are?"

She saw an address from David, and a message, "Is this enough for you, or shall I dig up more?"

Rosemary pocketed her phone and opened the wardrobe.

She had moved out months ago, and Maxwell had said he'd ask the servant to toss all her stuff, so she wasn't holding out hope for finding any clothes to change into - she just couldn't stand the wrinkled mess and stench of booze she was wearing. She pulled open the door, half-hoping to at least find a T-shirt.

To her surprise, her clothes were still there, neatly arranged by length as per her habit, even the accessories sealed in bags and hung up.

Weren't these supposed to be trashed? But that question, likely to steer things towards flirty territory, she only pondered in her head without voicing it out.

After grabbing clothes and heading to the bathroom, she found all her stuff still there: face wash, toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash cup.

Once she was freshened up and changed, Rosemary made a beeline out of there. She half- expected Maxwell to stop her, even had her retorts ready, but when the man saw her, he just nonchalantly remarked, "Take the bed sheets you dirtied with you."

Rosemary snorted coldly. She'd never again call Victoria an angelic bitch. Anyone who could tame a demon like Maxwell was a downright saint in distress!

Grinding her teeth, she angrily bundled up the pricey sheets and duvet, pillows and all, dragging them out with her.

After dumping them in the trash downstairs, all sweaty and flustered, she hailed a cab to the address David gave her - a grocery store. Upon explaining herself, she was handed a USB stick.

Back home, she plugged in the USB to find five videos.

Rosemary knew Stacey was no saint, but she didn't expect her to stoop to the lows of honeypot traps to snag a contract for not only once or twice, let alone the plagiarism, gagging others with both carrot and stick, and bullying - all standard practice.

Rosemary transferred some cash to David; all she had to do now was wait for the right moment.

She could've sent the videos straight to the media, then paid for some trending hashtags to stir the pot, but that would risk exposing her, and the buzz wouldn't last - after all, Stacey wasn't a celeb, and public interest in business drama wasn't that high, not to mention Stacey had Stellar Group backing her. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

But before Rosemary could find her moment, Stacey beat her to it, getting into a brawl over a table with an influencer with hundreds of thousands of followers in a restaurant. Neither were the type to back down, and things got physical quick. Stacey's goons, looking like trouble with a capital T, got involved, and the poor influencer ended up with her nose job wrecked, bloodied and wailing.

Someone at the restaurant filmed it, posted it online, and it went viral. With fans clamoring for justice, Stacey's ordeal became meme fodder all over the web.

Rosemary messaged David to drop those videos he'd gathered when the time was ripe. David was a pro at this, knowing just when to release them to fan the flames of public outrage.

If at first Stacey could still try to bury the story and hire some keyboard warriors to clean up her image online, maybe even play the victim once in a while, once David's videos hit, she lost control

over the narrative. She couldn't even show her face without being mobbed, her address and phone number outed by netizens.

Watching the personal info spilled online, Rosemary thought back to her own dark days - getting dragged through the mud, homeless, huddling in dark corners of parks, scared stiff of being recognized even though she fully covered herself up.

Beyond the relentless online mockery, there were fabricated salacious rumors and the sickening harassment from loan sharks.

Thinking about it, it was as miserable as being a sick animal! And Stacey, the instigator, was probably living it up somewhere, clueless.

Lost in thought, Rosemary was jolted by the abrasive ringtone of her phone. She turned to see Stacey's name flashing on the screen.

She didn't pick up, but it kept ringing, persistent as a leech. Annoyed, Rosemary grabbed her phone, about to switch it off, when a message from Stacey came in, "Rosemary, if you don't pick up, I'll come find you. Digging up someone's address is a piece of cake for me."

She could totally feel Stacey's fury just oozing out of the text! But this woman seriously never learned. Even after becoming universally loathed like a rat crossing the street - everyone was ready to take a swing at her - she was still so pretentious.

Rosemary smirked, thinking, “If you're gonna be like that. Well, guess what? I'm out!”

She shut off her phone, went through her bedtime routine, and just as she had settled into bed, there were loud knocks at the door.