Maybe they were only waiting for a better opportunity.
She was in a constant state of tension, bringing her assistant with her wherever she went in the hotel. When she was at home, she was paranoid, needing to check the windows and door many times every night. Sometimes, she would startle herself awake at night.
Larissa's headache grew worse. She was sure that if things kept going on like this, she would develop some form of mental illness.
Maybe this was the Seymours' true goal?
Kevan and Gary were always able to gain first-hand knowledge of her mental state.
Gary would find all sorts of reasons to meet with her, asking about her in roundabout ways. When she relented and complained about her troubles, he would give her some comfort.
Kevan, on the other hand, could only be anxious—Aster was gone, so he did not have a legitimate reason to meet with her. If he randomly went over to her home, she would probably chase him away.
"What should I do?" he asked Dylan, who had long since returned from Covenford. He would go to Kevan's office at noon every day and have lunch with him.
"You have three options." Dylan raised three fingers. "One, confess your love to Larissa so you can care about her in a justified manner—you can pass on this option because a wuss like you would never choose this."
The moment he finished, Kevan gave him a piercing glare, which he ignored, continuing, "Two, numb yourself with work. If you don't see it, you won't feel frustrated over it. No matter how you look at it, Larissa is of no concern to you."
Kevan could not be bothered to even glare at him this time. "Enough, shut your mouth."
"I'm not even finished—" Dylan was displeased. "Why are you so impatient?"
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