Rebirth Into My Second Chance

Richard quickly withdrew his hand from my cheek, where he had been about to pinch me, and turned his attention to the newcomer. "Dr. Hilton, you've arrived. Thank you for saving my sister earlier." The cleverness in his statement was twofold: it not only expressed gratitude to Max but also subtly reminded him of my role as the 'sister', placing me in a familial, rather than romantic, context. However, Max, ever the stoic, merely glanced at me with detached concern. "Does your head still hurt?"

Taken aback by his directness, I lowered my voice and replied, "Yes, it does."

Max moved closer, his steps quickening as he gently examined the bandage on my wound. Behind him, Richard couldn't suppress a mocking laugh, sticking out his tongue at me in a gesture of disdain before leaving the room, giving Max and me some privacy. "The wound looks fine. Where does it hurt?" Max asked, his professional demeanor firmly in place.

"My heart aches," I replied, reaching to pull his hand towards my chest. He withdrew swiftly, clearly unamused by the flirtation.

It was a stark contrast to the night before when he had talked about sharing a lifetime of meals together. Now, here he was, all business.

"Dr. Hilton, isn't a heartache just a stress-induced palpitation from trauma? Am I wrong?" I challenged him, feigning innocence.

"No, you're not wrong," he admitted, seemingly at a loss. Then, to my amusement, he took out a stethoscope and began to check my heartbeat. "You know, for a surgeon, it's quite odd to carry a stethoscope around."

"I figured you'd say your heart was hurting," he replied with a sly glance, scribbling something on my chart after a brief examination.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

"It's just a minor concussion. Keep an eye on it and come back to the hospital if there are any problems."

"Why go back to the hospital? Why not your place?" I teased, jumping off the bed. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly reached out to steady me.

I, however, took the opportunity to lean into his embrace.

Maximilian, let's see how you can keep up this act.

I was almost certain he was Maximilian, not just Max. I needed him to admit it on Hilton family grounds, or he'd find a way to deny it. Or better yet, to catch him off guard and make all of Tracey's efforts futile before he could admit his true identity.

"Claire Floyd, we're in a hospital," he said, turning his face away but not resisting my clingy gesture.

"So, we'll continue this at your apartment?"

His ears reddened noticeably.

Satisfied with the effect, I pushed away from him and turned to leave. However, my head spun with

dizziness, and I stumbled backward.

Max caught me in time, his familiar scent enveloping me.

"Still playing?" He seemed to think I was pretending, but he played along, supporting me.

"This time it's for real," I mumbled pitifully, and he seemed genuinely at a loss, lifting me into his arms. didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around his neck.

"Max." I called his name, and he merely hummed in response.

If only he were just Max. But he was Maximilian, and his closeness had a purpose. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to identify the true murderer.

This life, it was all because of him that the killer became desperate.

But then again, wasn't all my suffering because of Maximilian?

A chill passed through my gaze.

If not for the Hilton family, my parents might still be alive. And if not for Maximilian, I wouldn't have met such a tragic fate along with my child.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, sensing my shift in mood, his eyes filled with concern.

Half-lying on the bed, my hand still looped around his neck as he attempted to stand, I pulled him close and bit his lip in a bold move before he could react. Hmm...