"Do you expect me to convince him? If he's not listening to you, I doubt he'd Listen to me either."

"Could you at least try? He suffered those injuries because of his effort to save you. You surely wouldn't want to see him drink himself to death, right?"

Although the situation wasn't critical, it could be bad for his health.

Frowning, Sabrina hesitated momentarily before responding, "Fine, put him on the phone."

"Sure."

Upon reentering the private room, Rolf found Tyrone about to down another glass of alcohol. He swiftly seized his wrist and said, "Enough."

Tyrone shot him a perplexed look.

Rolf passed the phone to him, stating, “It's for you."

He appeared not to have heard the ringing.

Tyrone, his eyes slightly glazed, took the phone, somewhat bewildered.

"Hello?"

Immediately recognizing his slurred speech, Sabrina knew he was drunk.

Striving to maintain her composure, she called out, "Tyrone?"

Upon hearing her familiar voice, Tyrone shuddered. He straightened up, a spark ignited in his eyes as if he was dreaming. "Sabrina?"

“Yes, it's me."

"Well... What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Have you been drinking?"

Tyrone hastily put down his glass, denying, "No."

"No need to lie to me. If your health deteriorates due to drinking, you'll end up back in the hospital. If that's what you want, keep drinking. You're wealthy enough to own a hospital. You can stay there indefinitely."

"I apologize, Sabrina. I won't drink anymore."