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.

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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.”

“I know, darling,” she says, looking up at him with such kindness in her face. “I know it is not easy on

you.”

He nods, and steels himself again. Part of him wants to go to pieces before his mother – he knows she

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would let him. But he has to pull himself together.

“You’ve got to stay strong,” she whispers, tugging firmly on his shirt in her hands. “For your people. I

know it is hard, but you cannot let yourself go to pieces.”

Victor smiles and kisses the top of her head. The opposite advice of his therapist, but it’s advice that

best matches his instincts and experience as an Alpha, at the head of his pack.

“I know it is hard, Victor,” she says, pulling away from him. “But you’ve lost a lot of face, today, 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 to think you are weak.”

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He nods, grateful for his mother, who has always talked straight to him. “I know, mother. I’m…becoming

newly aware. I’ve got to get my house together.”

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

hesitates, and then nods. “You did the right thing.”

He meets her eyes, his own brow raised, surprised. “I always thought you liked Amelia.”

She 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 you. Her person may have called to

you, and I understand that but…she is no Alpha’s wife.”

His mother says the words as gently as she can, but there is steel to her voice as well. Victor nods,

grateful for his confirmation of her choice.

“Now,” she says, all business. She steps forward to straighten his tie. “Amelia has left, and I thought

you should know.” He nods, grateful again for the information.

“Your father and your brother are coming out here in a minute,” she continues, surveying him to 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 ground.”

He nods, feeling his hackles rise. “Thank you, mother.”

“You are welcome, darling.” She says, brushing his cheek softly with her hand and then turning away.

“No matter what, I am on your side,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads in the door.

Her timing is impeccable, as always. As she breezes off the terrace, his brother storms out, wheeling

his father’s chair before him.

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“Finally,” his father snarls. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Victor. What are you doing, hiding

out here?”

Victor says nothing, watching them as they swiftly approach, their faces angry.

“What an embarrassment,” his father growls, shaking his head and looking away from Victor as if he

can’t stand the sight of his face. “Rejecting that perfectly acceptable woman like that, in front of

everyone –“

“It had to be done,” Victor growls.

“Even if it did,” his father says, his eyes snapping to Victor. “You should have done it in private, away

from prying eyes and the press.” He presses a hand to his forehead. “Such humiliation.”

Rafe smirks at Victor, secure in the knowledge that his father can’t see him. Victor’s lips curl back,

giving his brother a silent snarl. As if Rafe hasn’t done anything but be an embarrassment his entire

life.

“There are press waiting,” his father says, gesturing back towards the inside of the venue. “They want a

statement, answers, that you owe them.”

“I’m not speaking to anyone,” Victor says, taking a much-needed sip of his whiskey. “They’ve got

enough to chew on for a few days.”

“You must control the narrative –“ his father sneers.

“Whatever I say now,” Victor interrupts, his own voice angry, “will become part of the narrative. I’ll issue

a statement in a few days when things have calmed down. It is a circus now, and I will not be further

part of it.”

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“I’d release a statement, if I was you,” Rafe says, his voice smug. “I’d make sure Amelia didn’t get the

upper hand.”

“Luckily, you’re not me,” Victor shoots 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

bow, “if I don’t take your advice to heart.”

“Besides,” Victor continues, turning away 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 she can grasp.”

“Boy, you will heel to me –“ His father grinds, leaning forward in his chair.

“I will remind you,” Victor snaps, turning to bring his face close to his father’s on the chair. “That I am

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the Alpha of this pack, and that you will heel to me.” His lips quiver with his fury, his teeth elongating as

he faces his father.

Sick of being walked all over, Victor is ready to reclaim his rightful place. Those around him will heed

his word, even if he has to force them to it.

His father holds his position for a moment, challenging Victor, and then settles back in his chair,

conceding Victor’s rights as Alpha.

“I would not be so sure of myself, if I was you, Victor,” he says, his words heavy with warning. “You are

not as secure as you think you are. Come on,” he says to Rafe, glancing up at him. “Let’s pack up and

get out of this disaster. The sooner we are gone the sooner we can leave it behind.”

Rafe shoots Victor a dirty smile as he wheels his father across the patio, but Victor merely rolls his

eyes at him. “Nursemaid,” he murmurs, taking the last sip of his whiskey.

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Damn, but he could use another.

He turns back to the falls, contemplating his next step.

A few minutes of blissful calm pass and Victor closes his eyes again, his face again turned towards the

waterfall. Then, a footstep rings out behind him.

Slowly, he turns, Evelyn’s face in his mind.

But he is disappointed to see that it is only the butler. The disappointment is erased when he sees that

the butler is carrying a large, very welcome glass of whiskey in his hand. “I thought you could use this,

sir,” the butler murmurs, quickly crossing to him.

“You read my mind,” Victor replies, giving him a smile.

The butler returns the expression and bows, turning to head back inside. But Victor stops him, calling

after him.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

The butler stops halfway across the terrace and gives a deep bow. “I am called Burton, sir. Should it

please you.”

“Burton,” Victor says, taking a sip of the whiskey and savoring the taste in his mouth. It’s even his

favorite brand. “Are you looking for a new job?”

A slow, warm smile breaks out over Burton’s face.

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