Chapter 60

Upon seeing who it was, her face fell, “Mr. Ferber.”

Mr. Ferber, flushed and staggering, was clearly intoxicated. He leered at her with a crude grin, “Ms.

Chambers.”

Rosemary’s gaze fell onto the keycard he held tightly, “You better explain how you got a keycard to

my room.”

Though she didn’t really need an explanation; it was evidently a money-grubbing employee who

had handled it to him. Her question was just to confirm his intentions for being there.

His gaze seemed to pin on her, “Didn’t you ask me to find a spot without cameras for our meeting?

I’m just following through on that invite!”

He clumsily made his way in, even brazenly shut the door behind him, and licked his lips as he

advanced upon Rosemary, “What’s a safer and more comfortable place than a room? I’m starting to

believe that rumor about Mr. Templeton spending a whopping three hundred million just to keep

you.”

Even in her old-fashioned nightgown and a face bare of any makeup, Rosemary was undeniably a

breathtaking sight.

“I may not be able to give you three hundred million, but I assure you, I’ll treat you better than Mr.

Templeton ever could, and I’ll be devoted only to you. My eyes would forsake all else.”

He could muster the three hundred million, but he’d be damned if he’d spend that much simply for a

woman’s company.

Rosemary wanted to pummel his head open to search for brains. Gradually, she edged herself

backward until she felt the table pressing against her lower back, “If you're not as young or

attractive as Maxwell and if you can't provide me with the funds, why would I think I’d forsake him

for you?”

Listening to her question, Mr. Ferber believed there was a chance for him and eagerly moved

closer, “I can offer you Mrs. Ferber’s title. Stay by my side, and as soon as I’m back in Zion City, I’ll

divorce that old hag.”

Rosemary was silent.

And in those few seconds of silence, Mr. Ferber had already closed in on her, his heavyset hand

reaching out.

She asked, her voice frosty, “Aren’t you afraid of invoking Mr. Templeton’s anger? The cooperation

you're not as young or attractive as Maxwell and if you can't provide me with the funds.”

She hadn’t paid much attention to their business talks, but she understood that Maxwell was the

dominant.

“Mr. Templeton’s too preoccupied to care about you right now; he’s likely shacking up with some

chick right now. As for our deal, it’s well-sealed already. It’s in the range tens, perhaps even

hundreds of billions. Even the penalty fee for breaking such a contract would range in billions. Not

even the legitimate Mrs. Templeton could botch it.”

Backing his claim, Mr. Ferber showed a photo on his phone. In it, Maxwell was surrounded by

scantily clad women, one of them leaning in with a drink, her fullness barely enclosed within her

low-cut outfit. The logo of the nightclub downstairs was visible in the backdrop.

“Mr. Templeton might be young, affluent, and influential, but he can neither offer you recognition nor

can he remain committed to you indefinitely. I can provide all that.”

Bang! The room resonated with Mr. Ferber’s screams like a pig being butchered, followed by the

sight of him cradling his head as bleeding head, his fingers stained with blood which fell freely onto

the dark carpet.

“See why I needed a place away from surveillance cameras? Idiot.”

Rosemary, wielding a table lamp, continued her onslaught.

Several powerful blows later, Mr. Ferber finally got the hint. He seized the lamp base, “You bitch.”

She was insane!

Men are naturally stronger than women, and even an overweight idiot like Mr. Ferber could pack a

punch. Caught off guard by Rosemary’s sudden attack, he now held the lamp she swung at him

again, his glare fixated upon her as if he would rip her apart.

He violently tugged at her. Rosemary released her hold but was propelled forward due to the

momentum.

And that small step was enough for Mr. Ferber needed to catch her.

“You dead woman, dare to strike me!”

His grip on Rosemary’s wrist was iron-like as a stinging slap contacted her face.

That enraged slap, brimming with fury and sheer power, was unlike any of Rosemary’s retaliatory

blows with the lamp. A potent metallic taste impregnated her mouth, her head filled with a dizzying

sensation, and her ears rang so deafeningly that it induced nausea.

Before he could stake again, Rosemary kicked Mr. Ferber right in the lower abdomen.

The man turned pale from the pain, momentarily forgetting his pursuit of Rosemary.

She sprinted for the door, relying purely on instinct to aim for the elevator. She had left her phone

behind in the room, so her only option was to run to the lobby’s front desk and get the staff to call

the police.

Mr. Ferber’s thunderous footsteps and curses resonated behind her. She quickly glanced back.

His bloody visage was homing in on her, the gap between them closing fast.

Rosemary pushed herself to run faster, but as she turned back, a sudden blur caught the edge of

her vision. She was too slow to avoid it, and abruptly collided with someone.

The collision caused her senses to reel into disarray, and she was unable to make out the person’s

face.

Dizziness, an overwhelming urge to vomit.

Rosemary felt the stranger’s hands support her shoulders, propping up her weak frame with mere

arm strength. A voice reached her ears, but it was lost amid the humming in her ears, rendering it

impossible to determine the gender of the speaker.

Given the sturdy grip, it had to be a man.

Gradually, clarity returned, overpowering the buzzing in her ears, “Rosemary.”

The voice sounded faintly recognizable, but she figured she must have been hit too hard to

recognize it immediately. The face of the person came into view, and after a few seconds, she

realized, “Martin.”

Martin’s worry lines furrowed deeper as he eyed the reddened imprint on her cheek, then he shifted

his gaze to the man barreling towards them.

“What’s going down?”

Before Rosemary could articulate a response, Mr. Ferber was already on her, reaching out to

violently yank her hair. But his hand was caught in a vice grip by Martin!

Within a fraction of a moment, Mr. Ferber felt like his hand might break!

He growled menacingly, “Let go, she’s my girlfriend, and I suggest you steer clear, or you’ll cross a

line you may regret!”

“Did you cause the injuries on her face?”

Martin didn’t know this so-called Mr. Ferber, assumed him to be another vacationer in the resort;

after all, why else would anyone of importance compromise on such modest accommodations?

“Well, let’s just see who gets the last laugh today.”

Martin threw back a chilly chuckle while turning the pressure up on his grip. He might appear

easygoing, but he was far from accommodating. Born with the proverbial silver spoon and raised in

prosperity, his aura didn’t play second fiddle to anyone.

Right then, the elevator doors behind them opened with a “ding,” and Mr. Ferber, facing the

elevator, went visibly pale at recognizing the man stepping out.

“Mr. Templeton.”