Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92

Third Person’s POV

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“Miss Davis, I was the only attending surgeon on-site the night your brother crashed, Seraphina said, her voice a steady, clinical blade. “If I’d waited for another team to mobilize, Rolf wouldn’t be ‘complicating’ right now-he’d be dead. I suggest you remember that.” 1

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you putting a curse on my son?”

Lillian lost it. She went full hysteric, the “grieved mother” act dissolving into raw, ugly spíte. “My son was hanging by a thread and I haven’t even settled the score with you yet! Now you’re wishing him dead?!”

Lillian let out a jagged shriek and lunged at Seraphina.

Her face was a distorted mask of manic excitement-she’d finally found a reason to get physical.

The double doors to the conference room didn’t just open; they were detonated. The sound of heavy oak hitting the wall echoed

like a gunshot.

A tall, lethal silhouette stepped through the threshold. Mortimer.

He looked like he’d flown through a hurricane, his coat rumpled and his eyes rimmed with a manic, exhausted red.

The second he saw the chaos, his restraint disintegrated. A tidal wave of Alpha aura exploded out of him-the raw, suffocating scent of a predator at the top of the food chain. Every heart in the room skipped a beat.

“What exactly is going on here?” Mortimer’s voice was a low-frequency rumble, the kind that makes your teeth ache.

His gaze swept the room like a thermal scope before locking onto Lillian’s raised hand.

Caught in that lethal stare, Lillian’s arm froze mid-air. She let out a dry, nervous cough and tucked her hand behind her back.

“Mortimer… you’re here,” she stammered, her bravado evaporating.

Vivian’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Morty!”

Her voice went from jagged to syrupy in a split second.

She ditched the “worried sister” routine and practically glided toward him, reaching out to tuck her hand into the crook of his

arm.

Mortimer didn’t look at her. His eyes flicked to Seraphina.

When he met her gaze-calm, cold, and utterly unimpressed–he felt a jagged spike of panic in his chest.

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It was a primal, biological fear of losing his mate. He flinched, pulling his arm back before Vivian could even touch the fabric of his sleeve.

On the Aurora livestream, the chat was a digital riot.

“OH MY GOD! It’s the guy from the video! He’s real!”

“He’s terrifying. And way too hot to be legal.”

“He definitely flew in to save his mate. Look at that entrance!”

“Wait… did anyone else see him dodge the Davis girl? He looked like he didn’t even want her touching him.”

The tide was starting to turn, one comment at a time.

Mortimer ignored the cameras. He kept his eyes on Lillian. “Mrs. Davis. What were you about to do?”

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Chapter

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He spoke quietly, but every syllable carried the weight of a death threat Lillian felt a cold sweat break out across her neck.

The chat went dead silent. Even the casual viewers realized the vibe was off.

Vivian felt the shift in the room, her stomach doing a slow, nauseating roll. This wasn the script she’d written.

“Morty, Rolf almost died last night,” Vivian interjected, her voice trembling with manufactured tears. “My mom is just… she’s a wreck. She’s not thinking straight.”

She looked at him, pleading. “She didn’t really mean to hit Seraphina.’

Mortimer didn’t even blink. He kept his predatory focus on Lillian. “Is that right, Mrs. Davis?

The audience was hyper-analyzing every frame now.

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