Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103

+15 Bonus

Third Person’s POV

“Mortimer, it’s bad. Vivian’s had an accident. Can you get to the Shadowfang Healing Center? Now?” Connor’s voice crackled over the line, his panic dialed up to a practiced, theatrical pitch.

Mortimer’s brow hit a hard knot.

His reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window caught a coffee stain on his cuff-the shirt was a birthday gift from Seraphina last year. She’d mentioned once that this specific fabric needed immediate treatment if it got stained.

Barton let out an unreadable rumble in the back of his mind.

“What happened to her?” Mortimer asked, his voice a low, level rasp.

“The internet is tearing her apart, Mortimer. They’re saying she’s trying to wreck your mating, calling her… well, I can’t even repeat the things they’re saying.”

Connor was talking fast, like he was reciting a script he’d memorized in the hallway. “Vivian snapped. She’s had an emotional collapse. We’ve brought her to the healing center, but she’s hysterical. She’s screaming for you.” 1

Mortimer didn’t answer right away.

His thumb traced the edge of his phone.

He’d seen the comments.

Under Vivian’s I*******m posts, there were jagged, cruel words-but for every insult, ten other people were defending her, blaming Seraphina for being “too cold” or “not enough” for him.

And he’d never lifted a finger to stop a single word of it.

“Mortimer, I’m begging you as a father,” Connor’s voice dropped into a gravelly plea. “Just come see her. She won’t even let the doctors touch her unless you’re here.”

Silence stretched for three seconds.

Barton let out a jagged, frustrated snarl, claws scraping against the walls of Mortimer’s consciousness.

Mortimer closed his eyes. “I’m on my way.”

He hung up, glanced at the stain on his cuff, and walked into the executive suite’s dressing room.

He swapped the shirt for a clean, sterile white one.

Shadowfang Healing Center. Emergency Lounge. The scent of antiseptic fought with a heavy, syrupy perfume.

Vivian sat in an armchair, her thumb scrolling through her feed, a faint, sharp curve to her lips.

Her bare feet were propped up; the glass cuts had stopped bleeding, but she’d rubbed a little Monkshood salve-a wolf-speckic irritant-into the wounds to keep them raw and angry.

She looked less like a victim and more like a predator waiting for the bell to ring.

“Vivian, just let them bandage you,” Lillian said, frowning at her daughter’s casual posture. “What if you scar?”

“And why the hell are we at Shadowfang?” Lillian added, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We should be at the Iceblade Healing Center. Being here… what if we run into Seraphina? It’s bad luck.”

Vivian looked up, a lethal, cunning glint in her eyes.

Chapter 10

+15 Bonus

“I want het to see,” she said, her voice soft as a feather. “I want her to know that even if the whole world knows she’s the mate, I’m still the one Morty comes running for.”

Lillian started to argue, but Vivian cut her off.

“Mom. Did you get the video?”

“Got it,” Lillian whispered, patting her pocket. “Don’t worry. The second he walks in, I’ll find the right moment to hit ‘post’.”

A second later, Connor’s voice boomed from the hall.

“He’s here! Mortimer’s here!”

The transformation was instant. Vivian’s face shifted like liquid mercury.

She shoved her phone into her mother’s hand. Her eyes filled with a perfect, shimmering layer of tears. Her breath hitched.

“Mom… is he here? I need to apologize… I have to tell him…”

Her words came out in jagged, broken pieces-the classic sound of wolf-soul weakness taking hold. “It’s all my fault. Seraphina is getting dragged because of me…”

The door swung open.

Connor caught the cue perfectly. “Vivian, calm down. Morty’s here. He isn’t going to blame you. Just breathe.”

Vivian looked up. Mortimer was standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

She saw it immediately-the golden glow in his eyes wasn’t the frantic, jagged light of a man in a panic. He was composed. He was there to fulfill an obligation. He looked polite, he looked concerned, but he looked… distant.

Vivian’s heart did a slow, cold sink.

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