Sylvia turned to Milanda. “I’ll take Mr. Winters for his check-up. You go ahead and see Lydia first.”
But Eugene interjected at once. “I can handle it myself—it’s not like I’m bedridden or anything. Seriously, I can manage. You and Milanda should go see Lydia together.”
Sylvia nodded. “Alright, but keep your phone on. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Will do. I’ll come find you upstairs when I’m done.” Eugene gave her a charming smile.
With that, Sylvia and Milanda made their way to the inpatient wing.
When they knocked and entered, Amy had just finished an IV drip. Seeing Sylvia, she scrambled upright, alarm in her eyes. “Boss!”
Sylvia offered a gentle smile. “You should lie down. You just had your stomach pumped—you must still be weak.”
Milanda moved to place the flowers they’d brought in a vase.
Disheveled hair framed Amy’s pale face, her expression twisted with guilt. “I’m so sorry, boss—I’ve caused you trouble again.”
It wasn’t the first time. Last time, she’d insisted on meeting Baron Barlow, and Sylvia had to rescue her in the middle of the night.
This time, it was more of the same.
“You should be grateful to Mr. Winters,” Sylvia said quietly. “If he hadn’t been there, things could’ve gotten much worse.”
Amy nodded emphatically. “I know. Mr. Winters saved my life.”
Sylvia pulled up a chair. “Lydia, are you short on money?”

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