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He didn't answer, but he twisted open the jar of cookies and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie. "Cookies make
everything better," he said, offeringa small smile.
| frowned, and he stood up, grabbing his clipboard. "I've got to make rounds in the other wards. Richard has
sorted out your discharge papers; you'll be heading hwith him shortly."
As he walked away, | caught a glimpse of a blush creeping up his ears.
Could the boy from my dreams be Max? Somehow, their indifferent smiles blended together in my mind, each
seeming to carry a burden of years beyond their age.
But even if it were him, it just goes to show, the world has a funny way of bringing people together.
Now, walking down the hospital corridor with Richard, ready to leave, we bumped into Claude, sitting in her
wheelchair.
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"Claire, you're leaving without saying goodbye?" she accused.
As if she had any right to play the victim. What more could she possibly want from me?
"Do | look that gullible, Claude?" | shot back, catching the fleeting uncertainty in her eyes.
"So, you're choosing to leavefor Richard? Weren't those diaries full of declarations of love for me? And now
you've moved on so quickly, don't you find yourself despicable?" She threw a diary at my feet, a testament to
the years | spent under the illusion of love at the Hart family estate, now just a tool for her to demean me.
"Is this what you've been dying to tell me?" | picked up the diary, not giving it another glance before tearing it to
pieces and tossing it in the trash.
Richard looked ready to confront her physically, but I held him back. "It's not worth it," I said, pressing the
elevator button.
Behind us, the sound of things being thrown made Claude's frustration painfully obvious.
"Be careful around Claude," Richard warned as we waited. "She seems desperate for the Goodwin family's
support, and possibly, for you. Could this be related to your parents’ situation?"
| shook my head, unsure.
Yet, a npopped into my mind: Maximilian.
"Ever heard of the head of the Hilton family?" | asked out of the blue. That night at Claude's villa, | remembered
her calling out to a man named Maximilian for help, yet Ronald Collins claimed it was he who savedthe next
day.
"I'm not sure, but I'll look into it. After Alan passed, the Hiltons have kept a low profile, and Maximilian shuns the
limelight, focusing solely on his business ventures," Richard
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explained, deepening the mystery of that night's events.
Was Claude aware of my connection to Maximilian, usingto target him?
Her hints that the Hilton family wronged me, and her belief that | harbored resentment towards Maximilian, all
seemed like part of a larger scheme. "Richard, | need to meet Maximilian."
His reaction was a mix of difficulty
and tension, a stark refusal without hesitation. "I can't make that
happen," he said, a rare denial from someone who usually tried to accommodate my wishes.
"Do you know Maximilian too?" | stepped back, wary. Richard was my most trusted ally; was he keeping secrets
from me?
"Claire, do you really need to meet him? He's a daunting figure. If it's about retrieving your parents’ ashes, | can
negotiate with his company on your behalf."