Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142-

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Chapter 142

Third Person’s POV

“Can you just shut your mouth? Mortimer’s voice sounded like a low, rumbling thunderstorm.

Humphrey quickly ducked his head.

He couldn’t figure out why Mortimer-a guy who usually kept a poker face and acted like a stone-cold machine-was completely losing his mind tonight.

“Wow,” Humphrey thought, “totally amazed. Vivian getting locked up must have absolutely destroyed him.”

He now had a whole new appreciation for just how much Vivian “meant” to Mortimer.

“Hey Mortimer, how about we hit up Randall’s new lounge? Since my advice sucks, we can get the guys together for a drink. I’m sure we can figure out a foolproof way to fix this.”

Mortimer didn’t hear a word. His head was on a loop, replaying the terrifying moment Seraphina tried to jump out of his car. His chest felt numb.

But after driving around aimlessly for a few blocks, he violently whipped the steering wheel, giving in to Humphrey’s suggestion.

The new place sat right on the busiest strip of Sunset Boulevard, its massive neon sign blasting a tacky name: Bottoms Up.

Even the giant billboard out front was packed with bad American humor: “The moon is partying, and I’m the VIP.”

With a style that loud, you already knew the owner was a total attention-whore.

Sure enough, the second the Bentley pulled into a VIP spot, Randall-wearing a high-end designer floral shirt-ran right up to

the car.

“Yo! Mort! You finally made it! I just flew in a top-tier mixologist from Miami today. You’re going to get hooked on his specialty drink!”

Mortimer kept his face dark. He didn’t even blink as he strode right past him, dragging a freezing wave of Alpha pheromones through the front doors.

Randall grabbed Humphrey, who was half a step behind. “Did Mortimer swallow a grenade? Why does he look like death?”

“What do you think? Didn’t you check T*****r trending this afternoon? Vivian got dragged away in handcuffs, and Mortimer is going crazy worrying about her.”

Humphrey threw a sympathetic look toward Mortimer, who was already sitting in a corner booth drowning his sorrows. “I’m going to go keep an eye on him. You call Wilmot and the rest of the crew right now. Power in numbers, man. Tonight, we gotta pool our connections and get Miss Davids out of that holding cell!”

With that, Humphrey jogged over to the booth.

Randall scratched his head, completely confused. “If Mortimer wants to bail Vivian out, isn’t that just a one-phone-call kind? privilege for him? Why the hell does he need a whole board meeting with the boys?”

It made zero sense, but being a loyal bro, he started texting the crew anyway.

Once he sent the invites, he checked in with his own mate, Chloe.

“Babe, Mortimer is at my place. Vivian got arrested, so the boys are huddling up to help him pull some strings and get her out. Going to be home late tonight. Love you.”

On the other side of Los Angeles, Chloe was pacing around her living room, frantically texting Seraphina back when she got the

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“Sera, when my bully dog went missing, I used this private pet detective agency. They’re the best in the country. I just booked them for you. They’re deploying tracking dogs to help find Dash right now. Do not panic!”

The second she hit send, Randall’s text bragging about “bro loyalty” popped up on her screen,

“Oh my god! Randall is an absolute, incurable idiot!!”

Chloe was so mad she almost threw her new iPhone through the wall.

Furious, she screenshotted Randall’s text, forwarded it straight to Seraphina, and fired off a rapid-fire string of angry voice

notes.

“Sera! Look at the disgusting audacity of these trash men! The video of Vivian framing your brother is literally trending city- wide, and they’re huddling up at a nightclub trying to bail the home-wrecker out?!!” 1

Right then, Seraphina was navigating the freezing, dark streets of L.A., shouting Dash’s name into the wind.

Hearing her phone vibrate, she took a second to look at the screenshot.

Seeing the words “help Mortimer pull strings to get Vivian out,” she didn’t feel a thing.

No shock, no self-pity, and definitely no anger.

To her, whatever Mortimer did had absolutely nothing to do with her life anymore. 1

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