Rebirth Into My Second Chance

I grabbed a band-aid from the hallway and offered it to him, asking, "Need this?"

Allen shook his head. "No, it's just a minor scratch, though my shirt's damp."

That was when I noticed his shirt soaked. It must have been from brushing against Claude.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Frowning slightly, I remembered I had an extra shirt in my room.

So, I led him into my apartment and poured him a cup of coffee, saying, "I've got a shirt I was thinking of throwing out. You can have it. Don't worry about returning it. Just toss it."

I went into my room and pulled out the shirt with the glittery MH monogram. I had kept it through my last move, and I didn't know why I did so.

But at the moment, it was clear. My future meant parting ways with all of my past. Who owned the shirt didn't matter anymore.

As Allen took the shirt, he sized me up. "Why do you have a man's shirt?"

I quickly made up an excuse. "It's my brother's. He left it here last time, but he has so many. He won't even notice this one's gone."

Allen didn't dwell on it and went to the bathroom to change. Returning, he glanced around my apartment, "Your place is pretty upscale. I wanted to install one of those Dyson faucets during my renovation, but your mentor, my old man, said I was too expensive. Yet, your place had them. Claire, this is quite lavish. And this shirt is a designer's masterpiece. It must be worth a fortune."

I shrugged. "My brother's in investments, quite wealthy."

That was the truth. Without significant connections, Richard was thriving in his business. So, he had always been generous without a hint of stinginess.

Allen checked his watch, saying, "It's time to head out."

I nodded, noticing the shirt was slightly too big even though Allen was tall. It was a reflection of its previous owner's physical stature. For some reason, I couldn't shake off

the impression that Max was even more towering. But, no, it couldn't be his.

Upon reaching the hotel we had agreed on, we found our mentor already there, engaging in lively conversation with the dean and the man caught between them.

I hadn't expected Max to attend this dinner over a minor supply issue. He kept his gaze on me, though I couldn't meet his eyes, choosing to sit with Allen in a corner, away from him.

But as soon as we sat down,

Director Ramsey called us over to them, "Claire, Allen, come over. As leads of this research team, meet Mr. Hilton. He used to teach at our school. Mr. Hilton is investing in our research, and we'll name the product after the Hilton Group."

I frowned slightly and stood up with Allen.

"Mr. Hilton, you know Claire, your former student. She's a bit aloof but a good talker. And this is Allen, my student. They're a great team, working tirelessly in the lab, practically living there," Director Ramsey said, perhaps a bit drunk.

Max's expression, usually indifferent, carried a hint of mockery directed at Allen.

Then, Max's bodyguard whispered something to Allen, who followed him out afterward.

Soon after, Director Ramsey and the dean invited me to sit down, placing me next to Max, with only Director Ramsey in between.

When Allen returned in a

short-sleeved shirt, he muttered, "I

got bumped into the moment I stepped out. The shirt's soaked through Luckily, the Hilton family's bodyguard had a spare. Or it would have been too embarrassing Today's not my day with shirts. They said they'll dry it and give it back to me."