Rebirth Into My Second Chance

When I got back to the Hilton family mansion, Max practically swept me off my feet and carried me inside, and I hadn't even put on my shoes. There I was, my bare feet dangling in the air, feeling utterly embarrassed. I buried my face in Max's chest, seeking some comfort in the warmth. And then Helen, ever the attentive one, came jogging over, saying, "Mr. Hilton, the bath in your room is ready, and I've added the rose petals Ms. Claire likes."

I was so shy, I wished I could just vanish right then and there.

When on earth had Max planned all this?

"Max, I'd like to bathe alone," I said, wriggling out of his arms. He didn't insist, just gently set me down.

Just then, his new chauffeur walked in, maintaining a respectful distance, and reported, "Mr. Hilton, you left your phone in the car. Brought it over for you. Also, there was an incoming call."

Max acknowledged with a nod, taking the phone before disappearing into his study.

As I turned to head into his bedroom-a place I hadn't entered before since I was always assigned a different room-it hit me just how lavish everything was. The décor was all rich mahogany, the floors were intricately patterned with herringbone parquet, and the ceiling was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

The sheer size of the room, including a walk-in wardrobe, was something most people could only dream of. But for Max, it was just another room.

"Ms. Claire, Mr. Hilton has always wanted you to move in with him. He's just been waiting for the right time, wanting to respect your wishes," Helen relayed, almost as if she was Max's spokesperson.

The reality of the situation dawned on me.

"I need a bath. It's been a long day." Today, at the detective bureau, I'd thought I was closing in on Tracie, only to have Ronald suggest it might be a smokescreen by Richard. My sorrow had quickly turned into an indescribable sense of frustration.

Richard must have anticipated my moves, or perhaps he knew all along what I would do next.

Stepping into the bathroom, I was taken aback by the sheer size of the bathtub alone, a reminder of the opulent lives the wealthy lead a

stark contrast to my days in the

Haven of Hope Orphanage

As I got comfy in the tub, leaning against the edge, it hit me just how well Richard had me figured out. How was I supposed to outsmart him?

Lost in thought, I hardly noticed Max slipping in. He was dressed in a light, white silk pajama set, with one button undone at the collar, revealing a hint of his chest.

I pursed my lips, knowing full well what he was thinking.

Despite his usually stern demeanor, he had his own wild ways of expressing himself.

He scooped up some flower-scented water, gently pouring it over my back.

"Max, what if we pretend to break up? It could throw Richard off, make him think you and I are on the outs It might lower his guard, allow me to get closer," I suggested, the words barely out before I saw Max freeze, his hand pausing mid-air.

"Max, I don't see another way. It's the only chance to draw out Hannah and protect the girls from Haven of Hope Orphanage. They're in danger, and Richard, he wants you dead."

I reached out, clasping his arm, trying to convey the urgency and desperation I felt. He remained silent, but I knew too well the scars he bore were likely linked to Richard. "Max..."

"No," he said firmly, cutting off my plea.

"But I have to do something. Those girls are innocent, and if Hannah gets her way, and Richard... Richard wants you out of the picture."

He said nothing in return, but his

silence spoke volumes. I knew the risks, the sacrifices, but also the stakes we were playing a dangerous game, but it was one l had to engage in, for the sake of all those at risk.