Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

The manager turned around upon hearing this and asked Rosemary with a smile, "Is that so, as Fitch claims?"

Clearly, the manager didn't want to check the security footage. People who came to nightclubs were either rich or powerful and valued their privacy a lot. They wouldn't want every move under the microscope.

"No, he harassed me and even hit my friend. If you don't believe me, you can ask your staff."

The manager glanced at the two men next to him and saw them nod, then catching practically the full story.

But he was quite the smooth operator, sizing up who he was dealing with. He'd never seen Rosemary before, and judging by her outfit, well, it was nothing to write home about, no bling or anything. But he knew Fitch, and even though the guy had seen better days, he still had some influence. So he figured he'd just smooth things over and call it a day.

"Miss, I see your friend doesn't look injured. How about we don't make a big deal out of this, okay? Of course, Fitch will definitely cover any medical expenses."

Rosemary had seen her fair share of fair-weather friends; she took one look at the manager and knew exactly what kind of character he was.

"And what if I insist on taking this further? Is the Night Club going to cover for him?"

"Of course not. Disputes between guests are your own business; the Night Club doesn't get involved. But we have rules here: no fighting allowed on the premises, so we'd appreciate it if you took your grievance outside."

They ran a club, not a community center. As long as the fists didn't fly in the club, they couldn't care less about what happened outside.

"I'd like a copy of the surveillance footage from earlier." NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

The manager kept his cool, "Sorry, we cater to a special clientele here. Aside from the lobby and elevators, we don't have cameras anywhere else."

That was obviously a load of bull. In places like this, where trouble was always brewing, how could the hallways not have cameras?

Off to the side, Archer, who had been enjoying the show, raised an eyebrow at Rosemary, who had her back to them the whole time, "Looks like your wife isn't looking to you for help."

She had clearly seen Maxwell earlier, but since then, she hadn't looked back at him once. Now, even though she knew the manager was giving her the runaround, she didn't think to ask her husband for help.

She must know that if Maxwell said the word, the surveillance footage and Fitch would be served up on a silver platter.

Tsk, talked about having a backbone!

Maxwell was already irked, and at Archer's words, his brow furrowed even more, and his expression darkened, "Nobody thinks you're mute if you keep quiet."

Archer's gaze fell on the marks on the man's neck, with a teasing lift of his eyes, "What's with the marks on your neck? Who did you sleep with?"

As if he'd stumbled upon something scandalous - knowing full well the line of women dying to get into Maxwell's bed over the years, none had succeeded.

Archer had even wondered if Maxwell had been left with some kind of sexual dysfunction after that one night three years ago!

Maxwell couldn't be bothered with him and brushed it off, "Mosquito bites."

His gaze still fixed on Rosemary, wondering when she'd remember she was Mrs. Templeton and could throw her weight around if she wanted to.

Meanwhile, Fitch provocatively lifted his chin towards Rosemary. Without the Night Club's protection, what were two women going to do against him - they were putty in his hands, right?

"Assistant Chambers, I'd advise you to be smart about this. You should just..."

His words got stuck in his throat as Fitch saw Maxwell walking towards them! After all, Rosemary was with the Templeton Group, Maxwell's subordinate. Bullying someone in front of him was like asking for trouble.

He'd heard a rumor before that someone who'd gotten fresh with Maxwell's companion during a business deal ended up with a broken arm on the spot.

With that in mind, Fitch was shaking like a leaf, "Mr. Templeton."

Maxwell glanced at him coldly and then back at Rosemary, who was about to call the cops with her phone.

But before she could make the call, the manager beat her to the punch, "Miss, if you're going to call the cops, please step outside. We don't want the Night Club involved."

"It happened here, so the police need to deal with it here," Rosemary didn't budge an inch, and she didn't even spare a glance for the man approaching.

As Maxwell was ignored like that, his lips tightened.

Seeing his expression, Fitch tentatively asked, "Mr. Templeton, this lady looks a lot like an employee at your company. I thought she looked familiar and asked if she worked at the Templeton Group."

He wasn't sure how long Maxwell had been there or what he had seen, so he played it by ear, waiting to see how Maxwell would react.

Maxwell chuckled enigmatically, "Is that so? Let me see how much she resembles the employee."

He stepped in front of Rosemary, his dominating gaze falling on her. Rosemary intended to ignore him, but his piercing look forced her to meet his eyes.

Maxwell was silent, but his eyes clearly said one thing, “Beg me.”

Rosemary bit her lip hard, thinking to herself, “In your dreams!”

"Huh," even his deep voice couldn't hide the nastiness in his words, "I don't know her; you must be seeing things."

Fitch's heart, which had been in his throat, settled down, and he quickly buttered Maxwell up with a few more flattering words.

Rosemary tried to get her phone back from the manager. Without being able to call the cops, she had to find someone else to help.

She opened her contacts, going directly to the names starting with “M”. Maxwell's eyes narrowed sharply. Before she could find the person she was looking for in her contacts, he grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms.

Rosemary hadn't expected him to suddenly do this. His unexpected move startled her, and her phone slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor!

Maxwell didn't give her a chance to pick it up, dragging her towards the elevator with a face as dark as a storm cloud.

"Maxwell, what the hell! My phone, wait, my friend!"

Rosemary was still fretting over Yolanda, who was even more smashed than she was. When she turned to check on her, she found Yolanda had somehow conked out on the floor without anyone noticing!

"She's plastered; I gotta take her home. Get off me."

Maxwell's voice cut through, chilly and detached, "Archer, handle the rest!"

Meanwhile, Fitch was freaked out by the whole scene, just standing there like a deer in headlights, gawking at the direction the two had left in.

Didn’t he say she wasn’t employees of the Templeton Group?

"Mr. William," came Archer's icy voice from behind, "do you get what Mr. Templeton means by 'handling the rest?"

The nightclub manager, who hadn’t expected the scene just now and was already scared out of his wits, jumped a mile high when Archer called out to him!

"Don't worry, neither Mr. Templeton nor you will ever have to deal with Fitch in the Night Club again."

Down in the underground parking lot, Rosemary was unceremoniously shoved into the car.

She was already tipsy, and after the rough manhandling, she felt a tsunami churning in her stomach. She was about to hurl!

But before she could make a move, Maxwell clamped down on her chin with zero gentleness, leaning in close. His handsome face was now stern and ominous, "Who were you trying to ask for help just now, huh?"