"Miss Larson?"

Adjusting her glasses with a strained smile, Tilda excused herself, “Pardon me, Rosalynn, Karina. I have to go to the restroom."

Her departure was hasty, her foot colliding with a nearby table.

She teetered, nearly tumbling over.

“Be careful!"

Lyndon's reflexes were swift, steadying her arm.

Tilda recoiled from his touch as though burnt.

"Don't touch me!"

Her complexion paled significantly.

Surprised by her reaction, Rosalynn and the others could only watch.

Regaining some semblance of calm, Tilda tucked her hair back and, with a ghostly pallor, apologized, “I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable being touched," before retreating swiftly.

Lyndon's brow creased in confusion as he watched her rapid exit.

Lips pressed together, Rosalynn was Lost in contemplation.

Larson was Tilda's last name. Lyndon had called her Miss Larson.

Could it be that Tilda belonged to Skrix's Larson family?

Were she and Ivy half-siblings?

In Tilda's gaze just moments earlier, there seemed to lurk a shadow of fear and... a sliver of disgust.

Could it be that Tilda harbored hatred towards Lyndon?

Rosalynn doubted that.

Rosalynn's gaze settled on Lyndon. His presence was striking, clad in a sharp, dark suit, standing with an air of confidence.