Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 39 – Family Drama

The next morning, I wake up on Victor’s couch. It was such a disastrous end to a great date, I think, rubbing my head and yawning. Archie jumps up on the couch, giving me enthusiastic morning kisses, and I pet his precious face, cooing goodmorning to him but trying not to let him lick me quite so much.

“I thought it was my dog,” Victor says, and I turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, smirking at me.

“It was supposed to be your dog,” I say, standing and wrapping the throw blanket around myself. “I can’t help it if I’m just more lovable than you. Poor pup couldn’t resist.”

Victor laughs and whistles for the dog, who trots over to say good morning too. Victor gives him some scratches on his bum and Archie prances happily.

“I’ve increased patrols on your house,” Victor says, straightening up as the dog goes to look for the boys. “I apologize, I didn’t think to have a guard set while you were away. It won’t happen again.”

“Victor,” I say, running a hand through my hair, worried. “She knows where I am now…and she’s nuts. And that’s my professional diagnosis, which I don’t hand out easily.”

“It’s nothing my team can’t handle,” Victor says, turning to the kitchen, confident in his control. “She’s just one woman. If I couldn’t keep you safe from that, I don’t deserve my place as Alpha.”

I follow him into the kitchen, nodding and seeking coffee. I decide to trust him and not push any further, but I have to admit – I’m still wary. Emily is crafty and apparently determined.

“I’ll have a glazier come by this morning, to fix the window,” Victor says, handing me a mug and filling it with coffee. I accept and smile at him.

“Thank you for organizing that. Please send me the bill.”

He huffs and nods sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“It’s my house, Victor, these are my problems.”

“And as your landlord,” he says, handing me the pitcher of cream, “it’s my job to cover incidental repairs.”

“But this wasn’t incidental –“

“Please, Evelyn,” he says, his voice deep and serious. “Don’t fight me on this. I told you I’d keep you safe. This was a breach of that promise. Let me make it right.”

I consider for a moment, and then nod. “At least let me have you and Evelyn over for dinner tonight,” I say, stirring the cream into my coffee with the spoon Victor hands me. “To say thanks.”

“We would love to,” he agrees.

“I don’t want her in my house,” I hear Alvin whisper to Ian as I walk into the kitchen that evening. They’re peeking through the kitchen window at Victor and Amelia coming across the lawn. Of course, being able to look out the back window means they’re both standing in the sink.

it’s my house,” I say, quickly crossing the room and lifting each boy down from the countertop. “How did you

me and running for the back door. He pulls it open. “Hi Dad,” he

Victor says, coming in and kissing them each on the head. Amelia follows him in, smiling at the boys and clearly waiting for a greeting that they

I say, moving over to her. “These flowers are so pretty, thank you for thinking of us,”

kitchen. “It’s very…quaint

ten-thousand-dollar diamond earrings for a

am hungry!” Ian says, jumping up and

“I am too. Are we having, by any chance, jumping beans for dinner?!” With this, he scoops the

chases after, shouting that he, too, is a jumping bean, wanting to be

as her eyes follow the boys, slightly horrified. She jumps a little, surprised, and smiles her thanks. I move to the oven, checking on the casserole, which is browning nicely on

of greens out of

out. “I have to be in Bolivia soon, for a shoot. Are we…eating in here?

into my home office. But it’s nice and cozy in here,” I say, gesturing to the four white chairs around the little white table, a set that I trash picked and painted when the boys were young and getting too big for their high chairs. I’ve added a stool

she says, realizing her mistake. “That’s…great,” she mumbles, “that way you

setting plates at the table. “Bolivia sounds amazing. What are you doing

casserole out of the oven and place it carefully on the table. Smelling it, the boys rush into the kitchen to wash their hands. Victor happily takes his seat at the

about their day at school. I heap salad on

is going perfectly

picking plaintively at his salad. “Can I have some of the white sauce? This is

means ranch dressing,” I say, beginning to push back

“I’m closer.” As she stands up, I’m momentarily grateful that we’re getting along – that she seems to be warming

move in slow motion as I see him slip a foot out from

stumbles and trips. She puts out her hands to catch herself but misses, hitting her face on the counter as she goes down.

I hiss. “We’re going to have a talk about this.” I move to help Amelia, who rolls over on the ground and reveals a gash above her eyebrow, seeping blood. “Oh god,” I

a shaking hand to touch the warm blood

side, taking the paper towels from me and helping her to sit up. I leave them to it, turning to glare at my boys, who are standing side-by-side with wide

she says, pointing at Alvin. “He tripped me, he did it on

lies, stomping his foot and

him, my mom’s urge to comfort overwhelming my

kneeling next to Amelia, his face stern as she cries softly and holds the paper towel to her head. “You will apologize to

that he has done wrong, but my heart goes out to