Sebastian looked back at the empty room. He figured Polly had just gone home early and turned away, kneeling in front of Adele to massage her ankle.
When he got home, he rushed to Polly's room.
But the moment he opened the door, he froze.
The room was nearly bare—too clean, too empty. There wasn’t a single sign of someone still living there.
Gripping the door handle tightly, dozens of thoughts raced through his mind.
'No. She won't leave me. She can't have.'
With that thought in mind, he ran to the housekeeper and asked, “Where’s Polly?”
“She came back, picked up a suitcase, and left,” the servant replied.
'A suitcase? She really left? Where would she even go?' he wondered, panicking.
He thought back to how cold Polly had looked in the hospital. And suddenly, a dreadful weight sank in his chest.
She was mad. She was furious he hadn’t protected her.
He took out his phone and fired off message after message.
[Stop being so dramatic. Adele’s a professional racer. If I hadn’t saved her, she wouldn’t be able to compete again.]
[Polly, you’ve made your point. You really think I have time to coddle you every single day?]