Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 97 – Alone

Victor stands alone on a terrace facing the waterfall, a large glass of whiskey in his hand. He stands close to the railing, his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of the spray on his face.

He does his very best, in this moment, to feel nothing, lest his emotions completely overwhelm him. He breathes a sigh through gritted teeth, and then a laugh.

He is an Alpha, for god’s sake. He is supposed to be better at this, at controlling himself, his situation, his world. Or even, at the bare minimum, his emotions.

But he feels, truly, that if he feels even one thing in this moment, that the tumult of everything in his life, everything he wants to feel and has been pressing down, will overwhelm him, and he’ll just collapse.

Victor steels himself against this, imagining that his bones are titanium, and around them his muscles are iron, that he’s complete and indestructible and strong.

It helps. For now, at least, it helps. He feels like he can handle it all again, for this moment, at least.

Opening his eyes, he laughs a small, sardonic laugh. He imagines that his therapist, wherever she is, would tell him to let himself feel his feelings. That he’s just been through a very difficult and traumatic day and that he needs to recognize that, to give himself some grace.

He’s an Alpha, but he’s still a person, she would say.

Evelyn flashes to his mind in the moment and he smiles, knowing that she would probably say the same thing.

These therapists, all alike.

Still, the thought of her, smiling at him, giving him her own strength, fortifies him.

“Victor?” He turns, blinking, surprised to hear a voice. He asked not to be disturbed.

The past few hours had been a whirlwind – hotel staff wanting direction, Amelia’s father’s rage at being denied an audience, speaking briefly to Beta Stephen about the draft of a press relief. This is the first moment he’s been able to be alone, and he had savored it.

Still, he knows that voice, and is unsurprised to see his mother walking towards him.

“Victor?” she asks again, her voice worried. “Are you all right?”

He puts out an arm and his mother tucks herself into it, wrapping him in a hug of her own. He lets her hold him, for a moment, before straightening himself. “I’m fine, mom. It’s been…well, you know. It’s been quite a day.”

looking up at him with such kindness in

pieces before his mother – he knows she would let him.

got to stay strong,” she whispers, tugging firmly on his shirt in her hands. “For your people. I know it is hard, but you

The opposite advice of his therapist, but it’s advice that best matches his instincts and experience as an Alpha, at the head of

with the media, and with your people. And your reputation has suffered over the past months, with Walsh and Willard interfering in your life. People are beginning

who has always talked straight to him. “I know, mother. I’m…becoming newly aware. I’ve got to get my house

and crossing her arms. “Getting rid of Amelia was the first step.” She hesitates,

meets her eyes, his own brow raised,

shrugs. “I like anyone who loves my son, who is his mate. But in the end, she turned out to be too selfish, too determined to privilege herself, to be the right one for

but there is steel to her voice as

has left, and I thought you should

make sure he passes muster. “They are going to pressure you to talk to the press, to make big decisions.” She folds her arms and holds his gaze. “I won’t tell you what to do, Victor. But stick to your guns before them. You are not on steady

feeling his hackles rise. “Thank

cheek softly with her hand and then turning away. “No matter what, I am on your side,” she calls over her shoulder as

always. As she breezes off the terrace, his brother storms out, wheeling his father’s chair before

everywhere for

watching them as they swiftly approach,

shaking his head and looking away from Victor as if he can’t stand the sight of his face. “Rejecting

be

have done it in private, away from prying eyes and the press.”

the knowledge that his father can’t see him. Victor’s lips curl back, giving his brother

towards the inside of the venue. “They want a statement, answers, that you

sip of his whiskey. “They’ve

must control the narrative –“ his

Victor interrupts, his own voice angry, “will become part of the narrative. I’ll issue a statement in a few days when things

was you,” Rafe says, his

back at him, condescending. “You’re just the third son, who has never had to make a hard decision in his life. So excuse me,” Victor says, giving him a mocking little

from them slightly, contemplative. “I’ve ruined Amelia’s life enough for one day – I don’t need to make any statements to stop her from scrabbling for whatever ground