Goodbye Saintess. novel Chapter 8

He was here once?" Hera repeated.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Give me the spare keycard. I want to check the room."

She moved with purpose and unlocked the door. What was that man planning now?

Hera scanned the room. None of the hotel's amenities showed any signs of use. No evidence suggested anyone had lived here.

It was true, then. Sebastian had stayed only briefly before leaving. But why had he come here at all? For his suitcase?

Hera realized she had overlooked that his suitcase was gone. Then, her eyes fixed on a familiar laptop—hers.

"There you are," she murmured. Her gaze shifted to something resting on top. A letter.

The word "Farewell" was written on it. Its message was obvious.

"So this is your latest stunt, Sebastian? No calls or texts, ignoring my calls, leaving a farewell letter, and then disappearing on me?" Hera sneered. "Pathetic."

She tossed the letter into the bin without reading it.

He could vanish all he wanted. Hera doubted he had the nerve to stay away forever. Besides, this worked in Bobby's favor too. She wanted Sebastian gone for now. Whether he holed up in the hotel or somewhere else made no difference.

She pulled a chair from the table and started working on her laptop.

…

Hours passed. Dusk settled over the sky. Hera stood, stretched, and checked her phone.

The only messages came from Edmund—covertly flirtatious texts. No sign of Sebastian.

"He's really going all in on this?" Hera muttered.

She ignored Edmund's texts and scrolled through her conversation with Sebastian. His last message was days old.

Sebastian: [There's a hotel that's on fire! I have to help out!]

Sebastian: [What would you like to have for dinner? I'll buy the ingredients from the grocers once I'm done with my assignment!]

Sebastian: [Don't worry about me, okay?]

The hotel fire was how Sebastian found out about Edmund and Bobby. After that, he stopped messaging her altogether. Hera hadn't replied to a single one of his texts anyway.

Still, she felt strangely adrift. His concern, always tucked into those messages, had become a constant she didn't realize she'd come to expect. Without it, something felt off.

She stared at her phone, growing increasingly irritated.

"Whatever," she muttered.

The screen went black.

Her eyes drifted back to the farewell letter in the trash. Just a few hours ago, she hadn't cared what it said. Now, her curiosity swelled.

"Fine. I'll bite. Let's see how much effort you've put into this latest charade," she grumbled, fishing the letter out of the bin.

Sebastian's handwriting jumped out at her. As she read, her shock only deepened.

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