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.

lifting each boy down from the countertop. “How did you get up there

Ian says, rolling his eyes at me and running for

each on the head. Amelia follows him in, smiling at the boys and clearly waiting for a greeting that they don’t give. She stands awkwardly for a moment, a

to her. “These flowers are so pretty, thank you

looking around my kitchen. “It’s very…quaint in here. I haven’t seen

I say, working to keep my smile on my face. I know what Amelia, who is wearing ten-thousand-dollar diamond earrings for a casual dinner, thinks of things that are quaint. “Are you

hungry!” Ian says, jumping

this, he scoops the bouncing Ian up into his arms and pretends to take big bites

as his dad carries him into the living room. Alvin chases after, shouting that he, too, is a jumping bean,

jumps a little, surprised, and smiles her thanks. I move to the oven, checking on

and basalmic on your salad?” I ask her, taking the big bowl of greens out of the fridge. “Or,

set out. “I have to be in Bolivia soon,

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

I say laughing, setting plates at the table. “Bolivia sounds

kitchen to wash their hands. Victor happily takes his seat at the head of the table, not bothering to consider

filling the room as Amelia tells me more about her co-models, the photographers, and the boys tell Victor about their day at school. I heap salad on the boys’ plates, insisting on greens before cheese, and pour Victor a glass of wine before settling happily

going perfectly well until

at his salad. “Can I have some of the

ranch dressing,” I say, beginning

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 under the table, catching Amelia

trips. She puts out her hands to catch herself but misses, hitting her face on the counter as she goes down. Alvin gasps, horror filling his eyes as he sees

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

up with a shaking hand to touch the warm

to it, turning to glare at my boys, who are standing side-by-side with wide eyes and silent lips. I shake my head at them, my glare threatening. I know that they did

it,” she says, pointing at Alvin. “He tripped

did NOT,” Alvin lies, stomping his foot and bursting into tears. “I DIDN’T!”

towards him, my mom’s urge to comfort overwhelming

to Amelia, his face stern as she cries softly and holds the paper towel to her head.

Alvin, clinging to my leg, overwhelmed. I know that he has done wrong, but my heart