I'd been walking for what seemed like hours, no cars in sight, and my phone was as dead as a doornail. Turns out, Richard had my card cut off. Man, that guy plays for keeps.

Just then, the sky decided to throw a tantrum, and a torrential downpour soaked me to the bone. The cold rain felt like a million tiny needles on my skin.

Regret washed over me, or maybe it was pure hatred for how out of control things had gotten. It always seemed like I was the one stuck in the mud, while Richard, he was more like the executioner with an axe, always staying clean.

What was I thinking? Dragging Max into this mess, and now Kate and Claude too. I thought I could trick Richard, but now, my mind's totally blank.

Desperately looking for a ride, a limo from the Hilton estate pulled up in front of me. "Ms. Claire, please get in."

Was that Helen?

Hadn't she told me I was persona non grata at the Hiltons? What was she doing here, asking me to come back?

sorry. I thought if you left, Mr. Hilton would be alright. But he's badly hurt, in a coma, calling out your

barely remembered getting into the car, I just knew I wasn't moving fast enough. Hearing Max was hurt had me

be stopped by Helen,

for Max, thinking she had a shot if I was out of the picture. But the Max she faced

refused the hospital, didn't want to risk exposing his identity and causing a scene. We thought of you, an incredible, surgeon. You

had been turned into an impromptu OR, with machines and IVs everywhere, his

from

swn&

Hilton could have had his high life, serene and lofty, albeit a bit lonely. But you, you made him reckless, ready to walk through fire. Is this the blood-soaked Mr.

put on

none were too deep. But there

at the sight of the wounds. As a doctor, even I

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