Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 222

Chapter 272

Third Person’s POV

Chloe exchanged a glance with her, quietly giving her a thumbs-up under the table.

Alina lifted her chin proudly and strode out of the private room in her high heels.

Humphrey sat in his chair, his face suddenly turning pale. Even the wolf inside him seemed to shrink in fear.

It was only when Randall gave him a hard shove from the side that he snapped back to reality, jumped up from his chair, and hurried after her, completely disregarding his image.

“Babe! I don’t want to break up! I don’t want to prove my loyalty anymore! Please…don’t leave me-you’re still carrying my pup.

As Humphrey’s wailing faded away, the atmosphere in the private room grew heavier.

Randall sneaked a glance at Mortimer, then at his mate. He slowly stood up and forced himself to say, “Well, Mortimer, I think my dog’s about to give birth. We’d better get home and check on her, so we’re heading out.”

After saying this, he grabbed Chloe and ran off as if afraid Mortimer would take his anger out on them.

Dragged out the door, Chloe cursed inwardly, “Randall, that idiot, couldn’t even come up with a reasonable excuse. Killer was clearly a male dog-how could it possibly give birth!”

In the blink of an eye, the once lively private room was left with only two people.

“You should go home too.” Mortimer lowered his voice, not looking at the only one left-Wilmot, his tone filled with a deathly

silence.

Wilmot’s gaze fell on Mortimer’s hand. His knuckles had turned white from gripping too tightly and were trembling slightly. He sighed quietly to himself.

“Don’t drink that much. You’ve already used up all your chances with Seraphina. If you ruin your health too, what will you use to beg for her forgiveness, to win your Luna back?” Wilmot said.

Mortimer froze mid-motion, his glass halfway raised.

The private room fell into a long silence, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock.

After a long while, it seemed as if all his strength had finally been drained. He put down the strong liquor in his hand, utterly

exhausted.

୮

He slowly turned his head. His crimson eyes had faded to a dull gray and when he looked at Wilmot, they held nothing but despair. He looked as helpless as a lost child.

“Do you think… I still have a chance?”

Wilmot remained silent.

How would he know?

He hadn’t even managed his own marriage well. “Depends on how you behave, and whether Seraphina softens toward you.”

After that, Wilmot also stood up from his seat and added, “Instead of guessing here, you might as well go ask Seraphina yourself. At least you haven’t dissolved your bond with her yet. I don’t think she’s ready to shut you out completely.”

As he spoke, he gave Mortimer a meaningful look and continued, “She’s not as clueless as you are.”

Mortimer looked at Wilmot expressionlessly. “If you’re so clear-headed, why are you about to dissolve your mating bond?”

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Chapter 22Y

+15 Bonus

Wilmot thought to himself, “Tsk! I really shouldn’t have stayed here with him!”

“As if you won’t lose your mate, “Mortinter said.

Just then, the door to the private room was pushed open.

“Alpha Mortimer, Miss Davies has arrived.” The club’s manager stood respectfully at the door. Vivian was with him.

He had wanted to say a few flattering words, but when he saw Mortimer’s undisguised look of disgust as Vivian appeared, his smile froze instantly.

Had he… tried to please the wrong person?

Did Mortimer have a fight with Vivian?

“Did you tell her I was here?” Mortimer spoke in a cold voice.

The manager turned pale with fright, fumbling to explain, “A-Alpha Mortimer, I…”

“If you like leaking guests’ whereabouts so much, you shouldn’t work here anymore. I’ll let your boss know.”

The manager’s face instantly lost all color in terror.

He didn’t reveal anyone’s whereabouts lightly, but Vivian had often come to the club with Mortimer and the others before, and Mortimer had indeed treated her well. How could he have guessed she wasn’t invited to today’s birthday party?

“Alpha Mortimer…” The manager tried to explain further, but Wilmot waved him off, “Go take care of your business.”

“Alright… Thank you, Alpha Wilmot.” The manager hurried off as if he’d narrowly escaped a death sentence.

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