Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 19 – Daddy’s House

“Please,” I say, clutching the phone and trying to explain the situation to my landlord. “You don’t understand, this is an angry former client who has no grounds for this harassment – “

My boys are at Victor’s house, meeting Amelia, thank god. I don’t want them to hear any of this.

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ms. Ortega,” my landlord’s tinny voice zings through the phone. “It doesn’t matter to me if the client’s vandalism is unfounded – what matters is that my tenant is putting me in a situation where my home is being vandalized!”

I slap my hand to my forehead. Overnight, Emily came back and spraypainted w***e LIVES HERE all over my front windows. It was everything I could do to get it scrubbed off before Victor picked up the boys, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough.

“You have six weeks,” she says, prim and cruel. “Then I’m renting to someone else, someone who doesn’t do s*x work to pay my mortgage.”

I exhale, clenching my teeth against the rage that builds inside me. Her false accusations aside, it is unfortunately within her written rights to end my lease with six week’s notice, for any reason. “Fine,” I say, unwilling to fight anymore.

She hangs up and I rest my head back against my office chair. God. What the hell was I going to do now.

The time passes too quickly. I apply – quietly, discreetly – to every open house in the area, but every one tells me no. My landlord, unfortunately, has poisoned my name and my reputation.

The night before my lease ends, I sit up, alone, in the silence of my office. I don’t want to scare the boys, but we have to be out tomorrow and we have absolutely nowhere to go.

I even asked Mark for help, and Delia. They were sympathetic, of course, but they both live in one-room apartments. Neither could offer me anything real. Delia even called her parents, in Ohio, and they said they’d be happy to take us in – but I don’t want to uproot my boys like that.

Luckily, the boys been distracted, spending so much time with their dad. I never thought I’d be grateful to him for taking them away from me.

The next day is Monday, so I pack the boys off to school. When they’re gone, I head to the realtor’s office, ready to chase up one last lead. The realtor herself is sympathetic, but the lead goes nowhere. When we arrive to view the house, the key is missing from the hide-a-key.

The realtor twists her mouth at me, clearly feeling bad. “I’m sorry, Evelyn,” she says. “Looks like they got to this one as well.”

I sigh and climb back into my car, heading home. What the hell was I going to do?

As I pull up my street, my eyes find sheer chaos. s**t s**t s**t, I think, throwing my car in park, leaping out and running towards the front door where guys are throwing my stuff – all of my stuff, the boys’ toys, my linens, the food from my fridge – onto the front lawn.

to hold them back. “You don’t understand, I’m trying

off me!” One of the guys says, brusk. “You’ve been evicted, we’re just doing our job.” With that, he dumps the box with my laptop onto the

broken. It lights up, and I quickly scan through it to make sure the file aren’t corrupted. Thank god

Welk – and my boys climb out of the back seat, crying their eyes out. I make eye contact with Mrs. Welk, intending to thank her for driving the boys home after their Monday chess club, but she just sneers at me. Fine. I ignore

wait – I look

hands are covered in blood, with tiny little cuts all over. Alvin has a

me. Ian

I say, true fear leeching into my voice. “Are you

tell me. I peel them off me and stand them with their backs to the house, lest they see what’s

softly, gently. “What

“They were just so horrible about you, mama,”

be brave. “They kept saying you were – you were a prota- prostatute,”

on, “and that you let them do bad things

give you

like it –“ At this Ian and Alvin start to cry harder, and I hold them close, filled with rage at the horrible

eager to stay here, if this is how they’re treated at their

leave, I whisper to the boys to be strong, to not believe anything those stupid

have someone else in control. As they go, I raise my phone, intending to call a moving

I turn and see – of course, knowing my luck – Victor standing there, mad

walk over to him, pasting

the f**k is going on, Evelyn,” he says low, dangerous. “Why are

are you even here, Victor,” I say, matching his tone and mocking him. “I texted you to cancel the boys’ visit. Clearly,” I wave my hands towards my mess of a front yard,

snarls, “what’s happening!? Are you

yeah, obviously. But, as I have done a

coming out. Then he takes three steps

assured. “You are now finished – my own