Vivian stepped into the Laguna Vista Motel’s small reception area, the door chiming softly behind her. The room was simple yet welcoming, sunlight pouring through the large windows, casting warm patterns across the worn carpet and faded furniture. Behind the modest reception desk, Elena Martinez glanced up from a paperback novel, her expression neutral but attentive. She wore a professional smile, eyes subtly assessing Vivian’s bruised cheek and clearly distraught appearance.
“Can I help you?” Elena asked politely, though a hint of guardedness lingered.
Vivian approached hesitantly, her fingers nervously twisting around the strap of her bag. “I’m looking for my sister,” she began quietly, her voice intentionally unsteady. “Her name is Anna, but she’s probably using another name. She’s running from her husband. I have an urgent message for her.”
Elena’s expression hardened slightly, sympathy flickering beneath her practiced caution. “I’m sorry,” she said gently but firmly, shaking her head. “I can’t provide information about our guests.”
Vivian allowed tears to well up, her composure crumbling convincingly. “I understand you can’t tell me anything—I wouldn’t want you to. But her husband came looking for her at our parents’ place. He hit me,” she gestured softly to her bruised cheek, voice breaking slightly. “He’s checking every motel in the area. Please, if she’s here, just pass the message to her—that she needs to run. And please,” Vivian swallowed hard, visibly struggling with emotion, “tell her I love her, and I’ll never forget what she’s done for me.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Elena hesitated, visibly softened by Vivian’s distress, yet she didn’t offer promises. Instead, she simply handed Vivian a tissue with a gentle, empathetic look. “I’m sorry,” Elena murmured softly, clearly moved but remaining professionally neutral.
Vivian nodded gratefully, using the moment Elena turned her gaze downward to discreetly place the listening device. Then she quietly withdrew, thanking Elena softly and stepping out into the fading daylight.
She slipped into Noah’s car without a word, quickly erasing any trace of emotion from her expression.
Here’s your requested addition to Chapter 45:
Noah glanced at her questioningly as he activated the listening device, surprised by the convincing depth of her performance. He tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. “Sure you haven’t missed your calling to be an actress?”
Vivian shrugged lightly, her gaze distant. “The feelings are real—I just think about Serena.” Her voice was neutral, carefully controlled, but her eyes betrayed a haunting vulnerability she couldn’t conceal. Noah didn’t press further.
Seconds later, Elena’s voice filtered through the speaker: “Hello? I’m sorry to disturb you, but someone just came in asking for you—yes, a young woman claiming she’s your sister. She wanted me to tell you that your husband is checking motels around here. She said you should run. No, I didn’t say anything. Take care.”
Vivian met Noah’s gaze, eyes sharp with determination. “She’s here.”
Noah’s expression darkened immediately. He handed Vivian a small handgun, briefly demonstrating how to hold it and disengage the safety. “You probably won’t need this, but just in case.”
Vivian accepted the gun, tucking it out of view under her shirt. As she started to step from the car, Noah caught her wrist gently, his grip firm but careful.
“Be careful,” he said, voice tight with genuine worry. “She’ll try to run, probably through the back window. I’ll cover that exit—but if she goes out the front, just don’t confront her alone if anything feels off. Promise me.”
Vivian paused, sensing his sincere anxiety. She nodded quietly, watching as Noah silently moved toward the motel’s rear, ready for Mochi’s likely escape route.
