Keith Donovan then realized that James Grant was currently a patient.
His rough handling was affecting James Grant’s mood.
"Sorry," Keith Donovan held his breath, "Here, I brought you something, all things you love to eat."
Saying this, Keith Donovan placed a bunch of side dishes on the dining table in front of James Grant.
James Grant merely glanced at them, and his headache worsened.
"Do you think I can eat something this spicy right now?" James Grant patiently suggested to Keith Donovan, "Maybe you should go back and rest, Quentin Hale hired a caregiver."
Keith Donovan vehemently disagreed, "No way, I’m already here, what do you need a caregiver for? Don’t worry buddy, our relationship is such that even if I have to clean up after you, I’ll do it!"
James Grant, who already had a poor appetite, felt even more nauseated upon hearing this.
But he didn’t have the energy to complain or get angry, and looked at Keith Donovan with a blank expression, his voice calm and flat: "Get out."
"Don’t be mad, bro. Is it that you don’t like the food? Don’t worry, I know a Michelin three-star chef in Aethelburg and I’ll get them to cook for you on the spot."
James Grant couldn’t take it anymore, quickly stopping him and sighing: "No need, can you let me sleep alone for a while?"
Keith Donovan was adamant, "No way. What if you pull some brain-dead stunt like last night and attempt suicide?"
The veins on James Grant’s forehead were on the verge of popping out.
"I said, I wasn’t attempting suicide." James Grant gritted his teeth slightly, speaking each word deliberately.
He had just wanted to take a bath in the morning but was so drunk that he forgot to take off his clothes before getting into the bathtub and fell asleep with the water running.
James Grant closed his eyes in pain, but couldn’t help but add to himself.
His desire to commit suicide had long since passed.
The year Evelyn Clayton had just disappeared, he had severe mental issues.
Auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations, insomnia, irritability... these were common occurrences.
For a long time, he pretended to be a normal person during the day to socialize and work, but at night, he would wage war with his emotions and inner demons.
It wasn’t until Quentin Hale noticed something was off and managed to convince him to see a psychologist.
He started taking pills like meals, handfuls at a time, James Grant feeling like his emotions were being sealed away by a glass dome.
Neither happy nor sad, like a robot.
No one knew about this except for Quentin Hale.
Keith Donovan’s rambling interrupted James Grant’s thoughts.
"Alright, you weren’t attempting suicide, I suppose I was. I really don’t know what you were thinking, you’re obviously allergic to alcohol, yet drink so much. Did you know the hotel staff were scared to death? They called me eighty times in the morning to ask if you were okay, afraid you’d die there..."
Keith Donovan’s mouth didn’t stop as he flipped through his phone, messaging the chef he knew.
James Grant’s head was about to explode, interrupting Keith Donovan’s words.
"Can you just let me have some peace, even if for a moment?" James Grant pinched his brow, "Could you say a bit less?"
Keith Donovan paused, but ultimately couldn’t hold back.
"Are you sure? I met Evelyn Clayton this morning, don’t you want to know what I said to her?"
James Grant suddenly looked at Keith Donovan.
Keith Donovan gave a light snort, "Isn’t that just pathetic."
"What did you say to her?" James Grant asked, his nerves on edge.
Facing James Grant’s eyes, this time it was Keith Donovan’s turn to be nervous.
He glanced around, cleared his throat lightly. The most update n0vels are published on novel_fіre.net
"I might have done something bad."