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?

she held the umbrella for me, she suddenly knelt in front of me, handing me the umbrella, "Ms. Claire, I'm sorry. I thought if you left, Mr. Hilton would be alright. But he's badly hurt, in a coma, calling out your name. I need to take you to

remembered getting into the car, I just knew I wasn't moving fast enough.

to be stopped by Helen, "You need to

had feelings for Max, thinking she had a shot if I was

his identity and causing a scene.

into an impromptu OR, with machines and IVs everywhere, his body patched

from his

swn&

serene and lofty, albeit a bit lonely. But you, you made him reckless, ready to

respond. I just forced myself to stay calm, put on gloves, and began

were too deep. But there might have

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

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