Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 318

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Chapter 318

Third Person’s POV

Wilmot had a business dinner tonight.

While he was in the middle of a conversation, his phone rang-it was Camilla calling.

He excused himself and stepped outside to take it. Camilla’s voice came through, crisp and impatient. “Will, do you have any idea what time it is? Why aren’t you home yet? Can’t you just stop acting up and be a good mate for a couple of days?”

Wilmot stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the trash can beside him and replied with a lazy drawl, “You went to my place?

“Yes, and I’m staying here for a while. Come back soon,” Camilla replied.

“Oh, and Trista’s working late. Pick her up on your way.”

Wilmot was silent for a moment, then said flatly, “Got it.”

He hung up and scrolled through his contacts.

He searched for a long time but couldn’t find Trista’s number.

Since the office was on his way back from the restaurant anyway, he gave up trying to call and just drove over.

Meanwhile, at the office, Trista was still buried in her work.

It was past nine, and for her, the night shift was just getting started.

Rather than doing her regular work, she’d spent all day organizing her handover files.

Since she was going to sever the mating bond with Wilmot, she definitely wouldn’t keep working here.

She had handled a considerable amount of work over the past few years, and she felt she needed to get it all organized before

she left.

Most of the staff had already clocked out, and only a few offices were still lit.

The entire building was shrouded in silence-something Trista had long gotten used to.

She was tapping away at her keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen, when a knock came at the door.

Without looking up, she said, “Come in.”

The door swung open. Trista glanced up-and saw Wilmot.

She paused for a moment, then said, “You’re still at work, too.”

She stood up, grabbed a file from her desk, and walked over to him. “The project with Zoranta Corporation is kicking off soon, but the contract still hasn’t been finalized. I dropped by your office twice this afternoon, but you weren’t there.

“Can you sign it now?”

Wilmot glanced at her, took the contract, and looked through it.

At some point, Trista had stopped talking to him about anything except work.

Finding nothing wrong with the contract, Wilmot picked up the pen from her desk and leaned down to sign in the designated spots for Party A. His handwriting was as sharp and bold as his assertive personality.

Trista took the signed contract, flipped through it, and continued in her usual businesslike tone, “I’m only in charge of this

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project now, and Jasper Hayward will be taking over my position. Once I wrap up the handover files, I’ll hand in my resignation to you.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I need to take care of. I’ll get it done over the next few days.”

Trista wasn’t a finance major.

She’d given up the field she loved-for Wilmot, to meet the Bloodmoon Pack’s expectations.

Once the bond was dissolved, she would further her studie

Her true passion had always been robotics and cutting-edge technology. She was sick of being a luna, sick of the endless daily grind, and sick of keeping up appearances and forcing a smile for everyone.

Right now, talking to Wilmot about all this, she felt less like his mate and more like just another employee.

Wilmot watched her expressionlessly, a flicker of something crossing his eyes.

Suddenly, a strange thought hit him: Trista seemed like a different person now.

She was no longer warm, no longer bright. And she’d stopped trying to please him or being clingy.

He didn’t respond to what she said. Instead, he said flatly, “My mother’s at the Alpha Villa. We’ll talk when we get back.”

Trista nodded, slowly putting down the document. “I’ll pack up and head back, then.”

She powered down her computer and slipped the documents into her drawer.

Finding Wilmot still standing there, she was a bit surprised-she hadn’t expected him to wait for her.

As he turned to leave, she grabbed her phone and bag and followed him out of the office.

In the elevator on the way down, Wilmot stood with both hands jammed into his pockets as usual, his aura radiating silently through the cramped space.

Trista stood to the side, eyes fixed straight ahead on the elevator doors.

Reflected faintly in the polished steel, they seemed more distant from each other than two strangers.

Soon, they reached the first floor, where a black Maybach was parked at the building entrance.

They walked up to it. Trista opened the back door, while Wilmot got into the driver’s seat.

There was a reason Trista sat in the back-not long after they’d bonded, she’d reached for the passenger door, only to discover that Wilmot had locked it.

She’d been mortified the entire ride, her timid wolf trembling inside her.

She’d never ridden in his car since.

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