Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 265

Chapter 265

Third Person’s POV

The word “cousin” made the lazy smile on Caldwell’s face falter slightly.

The title seemed to immediately put him at a disadvantage in their unspoken hierarchy.

He narrowed his eyes at Mortimer. A second later, he grabbed the door handle, climbed into the passenger seat, and shut the door.

The Bentley pulled up outside a quiet cafe. It was still early, and the place was mostly empty.

When two exceptionally tall, striking men stepped out of a luxury vehicle, they naturally drew the glances of the few pedestrians nearby.

But one look at the hostile, lethal tension radiating from both men made the onlookers quickly avert their eyes and hurry past.

Once seated, Mortimer didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Grandpa told me about you. Your mother is Abigail. When she vanished twenty-seven years ago, our pack’s investigators concluded she had passed. We had no idea she was alive, let alone that she had a son.”

It sounded like a polite acknowledgment, but the underlying suggestion was loud and clear.

Caldwell met his gaze, refusing to play the game. “And? You sought me out. What do you actually want?”

Mortimer leaned back against the booth. “Tell your mom to come back and see Grandpa. He doesn’t have much time left, and he wants to see her.”

“Not going to happen,” Caldwell refused instantly. “I’m only here because Shadowfang Academy invited me to teach. I have nothing to do with the Blade pack, and you have no right to demand anything from

me.”

He picked up his freshly served espresso, knocked it back like a shot of cheap whiskey, and set the cup down hard. He locked eyes with Mortimer. “Save the Alpha attitude. It doesn’t work on me.”

Caldwell stood up to leave, only to find George’s massive, wall-like frame blocking the cafe exit.

Caldwell stopped. He turned back to Mortimer, his face darkening with silent fury. “What is this? Is the great Alpha Mortimer planning to teach me a lesson in public?”

Mortimer didn’t answer right away. He stood up slowly, stepping into Caldwell’s personal space. “I don’t care what your angle is. If you have a grudge, bring it to the Blade pack. But if I find out you’re using Seraphina as a pawn in whatever game you’re playing… I don’t care whose son you are. I will end you.”

An icy chill flooded Caldwell’s eyes. He stared directly into Mortimer’s face and let out a cold sneer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mortimer narrowed his eyes, his gaze a sharp warning. “You don’t have to understand it. Just remember

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Chapter 265

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it.”

Caldwell didn’t say another word. With a harsh laugh, he shoved George out of his way and stormed out

of the cafe.

Mortimer stood still, watching the barista clean up Caldwell’s empty cup before he finally walked out.

Six hours later, a rush-order DNA report comparing Abigail and Caldwell’s genetic profiles was delivered to Mortimer’s desk.

The test had been run through the Iceblade Healing Center’s secure lab. Since every registered member of the Blade pack kept a blood profile on file in their private biological bank, the results were indisputable.

Caldwell was, without a doubt, Abigail’s biological son.

It was far more conclusive than comparing him directly to Edwin.

It was three in the morning. The night was thick and silent, save for the faint glow of the streetlamps cutting through the winter frost.

Caldwell stood on his balcony. His sharp werewolf senses easily picked up the distant whistle of the wind slicing through the high-rises.

He was on the phone. When he heard the demanding, impatient tone of the voice on the other end, his grip tightened, a low growl vibrating in his throat. “I told you, I have my own plan. If my father can’t wait, then I’m out. You can handle this mess yourselves.”

The person on the other end was instantly cowed by the sheer authority in his voice and quickly stammered an apology.

Caldwell’s tone softened slightly, though it remained dangerous. “Tell my father he won’t have to wait long. But he is not to touch what is mine.”

He hung up. A second later, his phone buzzed with a new notification. It was a text from Seraphina: “I have a question about a neurosurgery case. Do you have a minute?”

The tension in Caldwell’s shoulders vanished instantly. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers flew across the screen.

The second day of winter break, Garfield and Thomasina had taken Dash out for a walk early in the morning. Ever since their research project wrapped up, they had plenty of free time, so they had brought the hound back from Seraphina’s place.

As a retired tracking hound who had suffered severe abuse in the past, Dash was now living a pampered life under their care.

Not only had its physical wounds completely healed, but it had filled out beautifully, its coat restored to a thick, glossy sheen.

The couple had decided the night before to invite Caldwell over for lunch, so they had gone out early to

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