Chapter 242
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 p>
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?
“Is it Max? Did he come back?” I grabbed her by the collar. As 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 him, only you can save Mr. Hilton p>
I barely remembered getting into the car, I just knew I wasn’t moving fast enough. Hearing Max was hurt had me lose all sense of reason.
Arriving at the Hilton estate, I dashed through the rain into Max’s room, only to be stopped by Helen, “You need to change into something clean, or you might worsen Mr. Hilton’s infection p>
It was obvious Helen had feelings for Max, thinking she had a shot if I was out of the picture. But the Max she faced now was beyond her help.
“Mr. Hilton refused the hospital, didn’t want to risk exposing his identity and causing a scene. We thought of you, an incredible, surgeon. You can save Mr. Hilton, can’t you p>
She handed me scrubs, and as I changed, Max’s room had been turned into an impromptu OR, with machines and IVs everywhere, his body patched up but soaked through
with blood from his bandage
swn&
“Ms. Claire, is this what you wanted? Mr. 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. Hilton you wanted p>
I didn’t respond. I just forced myself to stay calm, put on gloves, and began disinfecting and examining his wounds, one by one.
Thankfully, while there were many cuts, none were too deep. But there might have been some infection from the journey back from Elmwood Springs.
Carefully, I removed the gauze, flinching at the sight of the wounds. As a doctor, even I found the sight painful.
But Max, feverish and delirious, seemed to feel nothing, barely muttering, “Claire p>
I’d almost forgotten that in his last life, he chose to die alongside me. He’s always been this hard on himself.
I didn’t realize how long I’d been standing there until I finished stitching him up and wrapping fresh bandages around his wounds.
My stomach was in knots, and my legs had gone numb from standing still. It was only when I tried to move that I realized I’d cramped up.
I carefully slid down next to the bed, looking at his face, wondering what he had gone through.
Richard had gone too far.