Faye Sheffield ran up to him and asked expectantly, "Young Master Grant, do you remember me?"
"No." Leona Grant's languid gaze swept over her, his eyes filled with unmistakable disdain. "I'm just curious. Where did you get the audacity to come here and introduce yourself?"
"Do you think you're that pretty, or that your name carries some weight?"
"No, no, that's not it." Faye Sheffield's face instantly flushed red, whether from desperation or embarrassment. "I'm a doctor here, after all. I just wanted to ask about Young Master Grant's condition. It's my responsibility to my patient."
Leona Grant glanced at the "Intern" badge hanging from her chest, a smirk playing on his lips. His contempt was even more obvious now. "Is that so? Well, then you truly are a responsible 'good doctor.'"
Leona Grant deliberately stressed the words "good doctor," and Faye Sheffield's face turned an even deeper shade of red.
But she had no time to dwell on her wounded pride.
