Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 261

Chapter 261

Third Person’s PQV

“We’re not signing the settlement I know Vivian was wrong. You have every right to punish her. But please, this once, spare Everreach Building Materials. We won’t come to you again. Just think of it as… paying off the debt from when Vivian saved your life. Please.”

Mortimer’s gaze turned colder. He gave George a look

George understood at once and let Connor go.

The second he was free, Connor rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of Mortimer. “Mortimer, even if Vivian did something wrong, she did it out of love for you! Her methods were wrong, but her feelings weren’t! If she didn’t love you, why would she have risked her life to save you back then? You’ve seen what it cost her-the grueling aftermath, the way it shattered her wolf, leaving her weak and broken. You know what she’s sacrificed!”

Connor tried to stir up whatever old feeling might still be left in Mortimer, throwing out everything he had like a man grabbing for his last lifeline. “I know you’ve helped our family plenty over the years. This is truly the last time. If you let this go, I swear I’ll never trouble you again. If this keeps up, Everreach is going to go under, Mortimer!”

Sobbing, Connor abandoned the last bit of dignity he had left. Outside the Craig Group headquarters, he groveled at Mortimer’s feet. Again and again, he slammed his forehead against the pavement, the sickening thud of skin against concrete punctuating his desperate pleas.

Then he heard Mortimer let out a quiet laugh. Connor froze.

He looked up and met Mortimer’s cold, distant stare.

“I almost forgot about you.” Those five words made the hair on Connor’s neck stand on end.

Before he could react, a suffocating wave of alpha aura crashed over him.

Connor’s wolf shook violently. Fear settled into every bone in his body.

Only then did he understand, in horror, that Mortimer’s patience with him all these years had never been kindness. He’d simply been holding back.

Mortimer looked down at him, who sprawled helplessly on the ground, a cold smile at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t Hillcrest Care Facility tell you? My people already took Howell’s wife.”

The name “Hillcrest Care Facility” hit Connor like ice water. The color drained from his face.

He lay frozen on the ground, shaking, knowing this time it really was over.

“You bought your way into everything you got from me with a debt you never actually owed. Now I’m just taking it back.”

Mortimer straightened his collar as he spoke, the crushing aura fading away. “Go home and figure out what you’re going to tell your creditors.” Then he turned and walked into the Craig Group building.

“Mortimer! Alpha Mortimer! Please, I’m begging you, spare me, please…”

No matter how Connor begged, Mortimer never broke stride.

He had never been a soft-hearted man.

He had given his gratitude to the wrong people, and it had made him look like a fool in the end.

The thought nearly made him laugh.

Back on the top floor, Beta Tade came forward to report. “The other side is still pushing for that shipping route on the West

Chaptor 24

+15 Bonus

Goast of North America. They keep trying to reach us about a partnership.”

Mortimer’s steps slowed, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Didn’t we already make it clear? That route is for our company’s use only.”

“Yes. We’ve turned them down several times, but they won’t let it go. They even want to send someone here to meet in person. It struck me as unusually persistent, so I wanted to flag it for you.”

Mortimer gave a small nod. “No meeting. And no more responses.”

“Understood.” Beta Tade was about to leave when Mortimer stopped him. “How is the situation with the Davis family?”

“All the evidence has gone to the authorities. The lawyer will stay with Howell’s widow through the whole process.”

Mortimer nodded. “Stay on this one from start to finish. Give the lawyer and the prosecutors whatever they need.”

“Yes, sir.”

Elsewhere, in North America, at the headquarters of a corporation.

“Boss, they still refuse to cooperate with us. We even offered to send someone over to discuss it in person, but they turned us down immediately,” the subordinate reported respectfully.

The man standing by the floor-to-ceiling window slowly turned around. A deep scar stretched from beneath his right eye to behind his ear, adding a sinister edge to his otherwise refined features.

“What did Caldwell say?” he asked. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as if his vocal cords had been badly burned and could no longer produce a clear tone.

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