Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 779

The man glanced nonchalantly at the remote in Lucius’s hand before returning his attention to the laptop screen. He watched Larissa as if she were an interesting specimen in a museum.

“She’s so young. How did she manage to bring your family to its knees?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Lucius’s eyes were also glued to the screen. “I’ve had her investigated. Besides her connection to the Schwartz family, we can’t find any other major powers backing her.”

“So, it’s just the Palmer family supporting her?”

“Based on our findings, yes, that seems to be the case.”

The man’s gaze never left Larissa. “In that case, perhaps I can send the Palmer family a little warning. A reminder for their heir to keep his woman on a tighter leash.” His tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.

A weight lifted from Lucius’s shoulders. “Thank you, sir. With you involved, I’m certain the Palmer family will back down.”

…

In front of Starlight Media, Ursa looked at Larissa, wanting to say something but hesitating.

Larissa knew what she was thinking.

“It’s fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Tell the employees they can get paid to watch the show.”

Ursa’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Thank you, Ms. Judson!” She ran back inside to spread the good news.

A cheer erupted from the building as employees either flocked to the windows or came downstairs to watch in person.

Surrounded by onlookers, Milton couldn’t bring himself to look up. “Larissa,” he muttered, “I lost the bet. I’m here to be walked.”

Avril held up the leash she had brought. “Milton, I got this just for you! It’s the one with the studs!”

The livestream chat went wild:

Milton swallowed his pride. “I need to use the restroom to put this on.”

He shot Larissa a meaningful look, silently communicating that he needed privacy to attach the bell and keep up the ruse for Lucius.

“Oh, a disgusting pig like you can still feel shy?” Avril scoffed.

Larissa waved her hand dismissively. “Go on. I’ll wait.”

Milton took the leash into the ground-floor restroom. He stared at his reflection as he fastened the collar around his neck, then attached the bell. After taking a deep breath to steel himself, he walked back out.

“It’s on.”

“Yes! It’s dog-walking time!” someone in the crowd shouted.

The sound of the employees’ excited cheers was like a physical blow to Milton, a public declaration of his utter humiliation.