Chapter 33

"Looks like someone didn't learn their lesson and still has the nerve to talk tough."

He called this a lesson? Rosemary rose from the couch in a huff, "Yeah, I can still talk tough, unlike

some people who can't get it up anywhere!"

Knowing Maxwell for the past three years, she was certain he wouldn't lay a finger on her;

otherwise, she wouldn't have been playing the part of a wife in name only for the last three years!

She had tried every trick in the book to hold onto their marriage, being soft and hard, provocative

and seductive, only to be met with his disdainful sneers.

He must have been pickled in booze earlier to have done what he did. Now he was back to his

usual icy self, probably sobered up.

"Get out if you're going, and don't expect me to see you off!"

With that parting shot, Rosemary stormed upstairs to the guest room. The ordeal had sobered her

up a bit, and despite feeling drained, she mustered the energy for a shower. When she came out,

she heard the sound of a car pulling away from downstairs.

She knew where Maxwell was headed; during their encounter, she had felt his phone vibrate in his

pocket more than once.

Rosemary pulled back the curtains, watching the rain snake its way down the windowpane,

everything outside shrouded in a misty veil.

Talk about true love - not even a downpour could stop him from rushing to his sweetheart.

Victoria was staying at a hotel arranged by the dance regiment. When Maxwell arrived, Tracy was

waiting for him in the lobby.

"Mr. Templeton."

Maxwell nodded and strode into the elevator, "What's going on?"

Tracy looked troubled and shook her head, "She's been recovering from an injury lately, and I've

been busy with follow-up work. I'm not too clear on the specifics; you should hear it from Victoria."

When they got to Room 1709, Maxwell knocked, and shortly the door cracked open. Victoria

peeked out cautiously, and upon seeing it was Maxwell, her lips pressed, and she threw herself into

his arms!

She was wrapped in the hotel's bathrobe, her hair loose, her makeup-free face pale and tear-

streaked - a recent cry was evident.

She didn't smell of any overpowering perfume, just a faint scent of shower gel. Maxwell frowned and

grasped her shoulders, steadying her, "Victoria, stop it."

She hadn't expected him to push her away and looked up at him surprised, her eyes brimming with

tears, making her look pitiful.

"You wouldn't push me away before."

"I'm married now."

Maxwell didn't elaborate much, but Victoria got the message.

"You're only in a marriage of convenience with her, and besides, you're getting a divorce," Victoria's

voice cracked, her pent-up fear and anxiety from his recent distance bursting forth as tears

streamed uncontrollably down her face.

Maxwell didn't want to drag out the conversation, returning to the matter at hand, "What exactly

happened?"

Seeing him standing at the doorway with no intention of entering, Victoria let out a self-deprecating

laugh, "So you want me to spill it out here, to avoid gossip?"

Maxwell frowned and finally stepped into the room, while Tracy, who was still standing by the door,

stepped back to give them space for a private talk.

Men, always thinking with their lower half. Victoria was so gorgeous, and with their past, being alone

together in a room - how could they not do something else?

Once the deed was done, what was left for the so-called Mrs. Templeton? Victoria wouldn't have to

live in fear anymore!

Before Tracy could leave, however, she heard Maxwell's distant voice, "You don't need to go. As her

agent, you need to handle this properly."

Victoria had finally gotten her chance to be alone with Maxwell, but he was so decisive.

"Maxwell, she's been busy with my business recently. She rushed over as soon as she heard about

my accident. Maybe you should let her,"

Let her get some rest.

But she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence, as Maxwell interrupted, his tone and

expression growing colder, "You're under her management. If this is the extent of her capabilities,

then I'll consider getting you a new agent."

Victoria's tears fell silently, and she managed a smile more painful than crying, "If that's the case,

why did you even come? Just go, I'll handle my own issues. If I die, it's my own doing."

Tracy quickly tugged at her arm, "What nonsense are you talking? Mr. Templeton is here; he

couldn't possibly ignore you. Are you afraid of being photographed at the door and causing gossip,

making things difficult for Mr. Templeton? Why can't you just talk properly? Always so stubborn - I

have no idea who you take after!"

As speaking, she gestured to Victoria, clearly implying that times had changed, and this attitude

would only push him further away, doing her no favors.

Victoria bit her lip until it turned white and remained silent, conceding. After a few seconds of

silence, Tracy also entered the room. As she turned to close the door, her hand barely touching the

knob, Maxwell sensed something and his gaze turned frosty.

"Leave the door open," he said.

Tracy quickly withdrew her hand, "Okay."

Victoria scoffed, her tone laced with mockery.

Maxwell scanned the room - all the curtains were drawn, blocking out any hint of light.

"What's the situation?"

Victoria's phone call had been full of sobs and shaky whispers; he had only caught snippets:

stalking, footsteps, surveillance.

Victoria didn't respond; even as Tracy made desperate eye signals, she didn't budge. If it were the

old days, Maxwell would have softened his approach to coax her. But now, all he had was

impatience and more questions.

Seeing the impasse approaching, Tracy interjected, "Victoria said someone's been following her

around lately. Sometimes they even knock on her door, and she often hears footsteps late at night.

There was this crazy fan who professed his love for Victoria, seemed off his rocker. After being

rejected, he couldn't let go and would often stake out Victoria's performances, even harassing her

backstage. That's why she's so scared now."

Maxwell uttered, "I'll have someone look into it."

There was a faint rustling outside, and since he was close to the door, he pushed through the

slightly ajar door and strode out, coming face to face with someone on the hallway snapping pics

with a camera!

The guy was caught off guard and spun around to bolt, but Maxwell nailed him in two shakes of a

lamb's tail.

A squeal like a pig being butchered filled the air as the camera flew from his grasp! Maxwell had the

guy's arms in a twist and was kneeling on his back, pinning him to the floor, "Have you been tailing

Victoria lately?"

The man's face was ghost-white with pain, sweat beading on his forehead, "I was just...just

snapping some photos; didn't mean no harm to Ms. Temple."

"A journalist?"

Dancers were kinda like semi-celebs; it was no shocker to have paparazzi on their tail.

"I doubt it's that simple." Tracy flipped through the photos on the camera, "These are all shots of

you and Victoria together, Mr. Templeton. If this was a journo, they wouldn't just have these, and

he's not wearing a press badge either."

Maxwell lifted the guy's arm a notch, eliciting another pitiful howl. Amidst the struggle, a stack of

business cards tumbled out of his pocket.

The title read: Marriage Detective.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow and picked up the cards, flipping them over, "Who sent you?"

He slowly raised the man's arm higher, all calm and collected, no rush at all. But this slow torture

was nearly the end of the guy, who was huffing and groaning in agony, "It was Mrs. Templeton, she

wanted me to catch you cheating, looking to slice off a bigger piece of the pie in the divorce battle."