When Larissa's shoulder had healed to the point where she could return to work normally at the hotel, two weeks had already passed.

Her colleagues celebrated her return by booking a private room at the most upscale fine-dining restaurant in Covenford. They hung banners, inflated balloons, and even bought her a big cake.

Larissa felt guilty about accepting their grand gesture. As such, she accepted every single toast that came her way—

And…she got drunk again.

Some of the others wanted to send her home, but they didn't know her address. When asked about her family or friend's contact number, she could only stare back blankly without saying a word.

"Ah!" Someone raised their hand suddenly. "I have Ms. Seymour's husband's contact number! One time, Ms. Seymour's phone died, and she borrowed mine to give her husband a call. I conveniently saved his number back then!"

"Call him! Call him!" the group urged.

Someone spoke up weakly. "Aren't Ms. Seymour and her husband…divorced?"

This w