Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 120 – Consequences

The woman steps out of her car, her impossibly long legs made even longer by the four-inch heels strapped precariously to her perfectly manicured feet. She closes the door to her Porsche with a click and then slowly, casually, strolls into the building labeled Prath Industries.

“Annabeth Prath, please,” she says to the receptionist waiting for her there, taking off her Louis Vuitton sunglasses to give the girl a dazzling smile.

The receptionist looks up at her and then does a double take. “Oh!” she says. “Oh, hi! Welcome!”

The woman continues to smile at the receptionist. She’s used to being recognized.

“Yes,” the receptionist says, nodding and checking the calendar. “Yes, I see your appointment noted here. Just a moment. Could we get you a cup of coffee? A bottle of water?”

“No, thank you,” the woman says smoothly and then leans against the counter to wait. She looks around the room with confidence, assured that everything, today, was going to go just according to plan. She hears the receptionist behind her making a quick call to let them know that she’s arrived.

A few moments later, Annabeth herself comes through a set of glass doors, holding out her hands to the woman.

“Annabeth,” the woman ways, giving her that trademark stunning smile.

“Well well,” Annabeth says, taking the woman’s hands in hers and looking her over from head to toe. “I must say, you’re looking very well.”

“Yes,” the woman says, shaking back her shiny hair and giving a little laugh. “I took a few weeks in San Tropez to get my plans in order, and then came back relaxed and rested.”

“Well good for you,” Annabeth says, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I admit, I was curious to get your call. Won’t you come in, Amelia?”

says, with a smile that puts Annabeth’s teeth

smile drifting across her

up to is much less fancy than the Prath offices. Amelia parks in a spot far from

of a bag. In a moment, she’s swapped her Jimmy Choos for some beat up Nikes and

inside, leaving

to Allied Therapy,” says a woman at a beat-up

usually would. “Hello, I’d like to start

be happy to start that process with you. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me,

Amelia says. “With my boyfriend, an Alpha. It’s kind of a…high profile case. I was hoping to speak with someone who might have experience with

have a couple of therapists who specialize in this kind of work. If you fill out this paperwork, I’d be happy to give you the profiles of a couple of therapists who

hands her a clipboard. As the woman prints out the profiles, Amelia hurriedly fills out the form with a fake name and address. When she’s finished, she hands it back to the

the profiles of the therapists who work

but she’s frustrated to see that, unfortunately, there are at least twenty-five therapists to choose from. Unlikely that she’ll be

she pages through, she pauses, shocked to see a familiar name. The top of the fifth page

spreads across Amelia’s

she says, tossing the papers back on the

but Amelia

cigarette and takes a long, slow puff. She’s always loved smoking, but

he’d smell it on her hair or when she’d get sloppy and leave a butt on the back porch. “You’ll just have to quit when

but it just meant she