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Alan sat across from Sydney’s desk. 

Sydney felt the pressure rise as she wrote the prescription. Alan still had to approve it. 

The patient, referred by a friend, joked, “Dr. Wilson, with you looking this serious, I’m starting to think I’m sicker than I thought.” 

Everyone at the clinic knew Alan mentored both Sydney and Marcus. 

Alan smiled. “Relax. She handles tough cases. Yours? A piece of cake. She just always thinks of herself as a student when I’m around.” 

He skimmed the prescription and returned it without comment. Over the years, Sydney had proven the most gifted student in medicine he had ever met. If not for that meddling old woman from the Sterling family, her career would have soared long ago. She wouldn’t have to hide behind pseudonyms on research projects either. 

“The approach is solid. The dosage is spot on. One dose should do the trick,” Alan said. 

The patient had been diagnosed with severe enteritis through colonoscopy. They had tried various medications, but the symptoms kept returning. Finally, they came to Sydney as a 

last resort. 

After checking the pulse, Sydney concluded the root cause was not inflammation but excessive anxiety. She reversed the usual treatment approach. Instead of targeting inflammation, she worked against it. 

The patient had arrived with a “let’s just try it” attitude, but hearing Alan’s assessment immediately eased their nerves. Grinning, they said, “Dr. Wilson, next time I’m bringing a gift to thank you properly!” 

Sydney waved her hand quickly. “I’d rather you didn’t need to come back. But remember to keep a good mood. Nothing’s more important than your health.” 

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If all went well, seven doses would likely do the job. Still, as a doctor, she refused to 

overpromise. 

After the final patient left, Alan stood. “Come on. My wife’s almost done cooking back 

home.” 

“Looks like Marcus and I are in for a treat.” 

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Alan’s wife, Eliana Lambert, was not only an excellent cook but also deeply thoughtful. Every time Sydney visited, Eliana would prepare all her favorite dishes. 

Marcus waited in the car outside. 

Alan only visited the clinic once a month. Thanks to Sydney, Marcus seized every moment and spent the entire drive discussing tricky cases with their mentor. 

Eventually, Alan grew exasperated. “Sydney never treats me like a free consultation 

hotline.” 

Marcus remained unfazed. Glancing at Sydney through the rearview mirror, he said with a warm smile, “She’s studied under you for so many years. If we’re being technical, I should be calling her senior.” 

That was true. Alan had been Marcus‘ university professor, but Sydney had studied directly under him since childhood. He was undeniably biased in her favor. He had not retired until Sydney got into Jouleston University. He wanted to guide her through graduation before stepping away. 

After that, no matter how many times the school or education board called, he refused to return. Sydney was his only true apprentice. 

Still, she dared not let her boss call her “senior.” Laughing, she said, “You might say it, but 

I won’t dare answer.” 

They joked as the car pulled up in front of Alan’s home, a peaceful neighborhood tucked away from the city’s noise. The space between houses was wide, and every villa enjoyed 

plenty of sunlight. 

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Hearing the engine, Eliana came out to greet them, mock–scolding, “Sydney, Marcus, you 

two haven’t visited in forever.” 

She focused on wellness and looked radiant, like someone in her early fifties. 

Marcus came prepared, bringing two gifts after hearing about the visit. 

As Sydney helped carry them, she smiled brightly. “Eliana, I’ll be coming often now. Hope you don’t get tired of me.” 

She was no longer the Hamptons‘ daughter–in–law. Her schedule had finally opened. 

“Oh, I’d love that.” Eliana had only one son but always treated Sydney, who grew up under her husband’s wing, like a half–daughter. Hearing that made her genuinely happy. 

Alan ushered them inside. Suddenly, Eliana paused, her eyes flickering to Sydney with a brief hesitation. “Oh, we’ve got a guest.” 

“Who is it?” 

Given Alan’s status, guests usually booked appointments at least a week in advance. 

Eliana’s expression showed it wasn’t a relative either. This person had not called ahead or been family but still walked into their home. 

Alan stepped toward the entryway, glancing inside just as Eliana said, “It’s that Sterling boy. Said he had a pharmaceutical project he wanted to discuss with you.” 

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