Seraphina's POV
I spent the whole night waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I'd already rehearsed my lines, ready to lean into Mortimer's inevitable rage and use it to burn this contract down with some dignity.
But the cross-examination never came.
When I walked out of the guest room the next morning, fully dressed, Mortimer was already at the table.
He didn't mention the phone call. Instead, he'd prepped breakfast, just like the day before.
"Eat," he said, gesturing toward two glasses of warm milk spiked with that faint, herbal soul-tonic scent.
His face was its usual wall of granite, but I couldn't find a single c***k of resentment—nothing to suggest his favorite omega had been bullied.
I was suspicious. Did Vivian suddenly find religion and decide not to snitch? That didn't soun
