When Amelia returned from seeing Lucius out, she found Leila sitting by the bed, her arms crossed defiantly.

"Flirting with the employer while your husband lies in a coma? You really have no shame, Amelia," Leila sneered, her red dress vivid against the sterile white room.

"My personal life is none of your business, Leila," Amelia replied calmly, checking Chris’s monitor. She noticed his heart rate was fluctuating.

"You think you can move on to someone like Lucius Howard? You’re a Tudor—a name that’s synonymous with debt and scandal," Leila continued, her voice rising.

"Get out," Amelia said, her patience finally snapping. "Before I lose my temper."

Leila laughed, but her laughter was cut short by a sharp, rhythmic beeping from the heart monitor. Both women froze.

Chris’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

Leila was the first to react, rushing to his side and seizing his hand. "Chris! You're awake! Oh, thank God. I was so terrified... I didn't know how I’d go on without you."

Amelia stood at the foot of the bed, her heart racing. She saw Chris’s gaze settle on Leila, a flicker of something unreadable in his brown eyes.

"It's okay," Chris rasped, his voice raw from weeks of disuse. "Thank you... for being here."

Leila sobbed with relief, clinging to him. Amelia felt like an intruder in her own marriage. She turned to leave, wanting to give them space, but a cold, hoarse voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Stop."

Amelia froze. She turned back to see Chris looking at her. There was no warmth in his eyes—only a sharp, piercing intensity.

"Chris is awake, and you’re just going to walk away?" Leila snapped, standing up. "He nearly lost his life because of the situation you were involved in. Have you no gratitude?"

Amelia took a breath and stepped forward, bowing her head slightly in a gesture of sincere respect. "I am glad you are safe, Chris."

Chris’s expression remained stony. "A bow? That’s how you repay a debt of this magnitude?"

"What do you want from me, Mr. Spencer?" Amelia asked, her voice steady. "I’ll do whatever is required."

The doctors and nurses rushed in then, performing a flurry of checks. Throughout the entire process, Chris’s eyes never left Amelia. It wasn't the look of a husband; it was the look of a creditor watching his most valuable asset.

"Since you're so eager to be 'useful'," Chris said once the doctors had left, his voice regaining some of its former strength. "You will stay here. You will take care of my recovery personally. Only when I am back on my feet will I allow you to discuss leaving."

"Chris, I can take care of you," Leila protested.

"No," Chris said firmly. "This is her responsibility. She owes me this."

Amelia felt the weight of his words like a physical chain. "Fine," she whispered. "I’ll stay."

By the afternoon, the Spencer family had gathered. Victor was the only one Chris allowed into the room.

"You were impulsive, Chris," Victor scolded, though his eyes were red with relief. "Jumping into the ocean like that... what were you thinking?"

Chris leaned back against the pillows, looking exhausted. "I'm fine, Grandpa. Let’s not dwell on it."

Victor looked at Amelia, who was standing quietly in the corner. "Amelia, come here. Sit. You’ve worked harder than anyone these past few weeks."

Amelia moved forward, her gaze meeting Chris’s. The battle between them was far from over, but for now, the silence of the hospital had been replaced by a much louder, more complicated debt.