I woke up with the crack of dawn, buzzing with excitement. Max had mentioned a surgery for me to observe, and I knew these chances were few and far between.

As usual, I grabbed a piece of toast, barely giving the milk in the fridge a second glance. It had been days; it was definitely past its prime.

Just as I was about to take the milk downstairs to the trash, I bumped into Max stepping out of his apartment. The last thing I wanted was for him to see the expired milk - especially since it was a gift from him. I feared it might seem disrespectful, risking a poor evaluation at work or during our practical exams.

But his sharp eyes caught sight of it anyway. "It's gone bad. Get a new one," he said, his words always sparing but his actions generous, handing me a fresh bottle.

The sight of the new milk bottle puzzled me even more. If he wasn't part of the Hilton family, how did he always have a fresh supply?

"And did Claude give you this milk again?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued.

He coughed lightly. "Hmm," was his delayed reply.

I put on a weak smile. He could lie without a flinch.

"Because Claude claims he doesn't know a Max."

Another cough escaped him. "Used a pseudonym for Mr. Hart's business," he confessed, hardly making eye contact.

first, hitting the button for the basement, while I

offer a ride, and I

out of the elevator, his parting words were, "Have a

a silent acknowledgement, and headed for the bus stop, leaving the

milk bottle to an elderly man begging nearby, then

milk, like my feelings about Claude and Kate, was just a nuisance, better off

Max's car driving past the bus. I hope he didn't see me give away the

reaching the

I quickly scrubbed in, joining him in the operating room

didn't glance up, his voice

looks from the nurses made me even more nervous; this was

Thankfully had reviewed the

images Max

before. I had a rough understanding of

into the surgery, Max hadn't moved at all. Now I understood why he insisted I have a hearty

single piece of toast I had

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