Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 58 – Media Frenzy

“Ian,” I call, wrapped in my favorite knitted white blanket on Victor’s couch, “come on baby, back away from the TV. You’re going to burn your eyeballs out, standing that close.”

Ian is standing with his nose inches away from the tv, his hands pressed against the screen. He barely blinks and I think, fleetingly, of Poltergeist.

“I can’t, mama,” he says. “It’s me, I’m on the TV!”

Alvin claps his hands and jumps up and down behind Ian. “Look! It’s me! There we are again!”

The media really have their hooks in this story – they’ve been cycling pictures of Victor and the claiming ceremony over and over again. Unfortunately, the event had precisely the kind of backlash that Victor hoped to avoid. Rampant speculation about the boys, Victor and Amelia’s relationship and, unfortunately, the mother.

That’s why I’m here, curled up on Victor’s couch, begrudgingly in the same room as Amelia. Victor called us all here, wanting to keep everyone in the house and on lockdown until the story fades. It’s true – there are paparazzi all over the street outside our houses; one of the Betas even found someone sneaking in the yard.

It’s all so ridiculous. But the boys, at least, at thrilled.

Victor enters the living room, handing Amelia a cup of tea. “Any change in the spin, the angle?” he asks, crossing his arms. He’s dressed down today, for once – no suit, just a finely knit sweater and slacks. But even in those, he looks stiff and formal. I smirk, looking at him. Does Victor ever relax?

“No,” Amelia responds. “Same old, same old. Just a lot of rampant speculation.”

“Good,” Victor says, watching the screen as raptly as the boys. “If it stays like this – just summarizing the event – it will blow over.”

Just after Victor says this, though, my phone dings. I pick it up.

Delia: Check out CelebGoss. You’re headline news, babe.

“Shoot,” I say, looking up at Victor and Amelia. “Can you change the channel? Delia texted me, she told me to put on CelebGoss.” So far, we’ve been sticking to Victor’s preferred news stations which lean towards national news and hard-hitting journalism.

He picks up the remote and flicks the channel. Immediately, we’re greeted with a blurry picture of my face from yesterday’s event.

smacking her Barbie-pink lips as she talks, “an insider at Alpha Kensington’s Claiming event has reported that this woman was identified by guests

his arms. “It’s only a matter

it’s you! Now you’re on tv!” Alvin laughs and

you sure it’s me, Alvin?

you!” Says Ian, tracing my

Amelia says, tsking, exasperated. “Don’t touch the screen

Ian, I think, smirking and saying nothing. Maybe I

out my identity, but frankly, at this point, I’m emotionally exhausted by it all. The fact is that my father already knows where I am and the boys exist, so there’s no one else I’m really trying to keep it a secret from. While I would of course prefer not to be on television with my private life

sit back and try to ride

commercial for home insurance and the boys fall away from the tv, returning to some blocks that they’ve been playing with on the

asks, looking up at him from her spot

we would have already been married, to bring some stability to this situation. It doesn’t look good to be what the press is now calling a ‘single father,’ in politics. I think, for now, it’s best to stay the course,

out as the show abruptly returns, the words

the same reporter says, her face now

family are now confirming that this is indeed Evelyn Ortega, a psychologist and single mother who was, until yesterday, a Rogue member of

the reporter continues, a certain amount of glee now in her voice, “there is evidence that Evelyn

I say, rolling my eyes and pulling my blanket up over my head. “Here we

images onto the screen from that night six years ago. Of course, they’ve picked one of the more scandalous photos that a paparazzi

the more scandalous parts of the image and blur out anything that they couldn’t cut. But still, from my hands pressed against the window and the…emotive…expression on my face, it’s

her eyes with her hand and looking down at her cup of tea. I know she’s not squeamish, and surely she’s

the tv to get a

his brother. “Are we in this

away form there, boys,” I say, sitting up and waving them over to me. “Victor, can we turn

at