Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 123 – To Good to be True

Victor can’t keep the smile off his face as, a little bit later, he trudges through the snow back to his

house.

It was just so unbelievably good, these past few hours, to spend time as a family, to sleep with Evelyn

where she belonged, wrapped in his arms. Even the stupid mundane things, like doing dishes with the

boys and helping them pick a cereal, made him feel complete in a way that he hadn’t known before that

he was missing.

Thank god Amelia locked the boys in that cabinet, he thinks to himself, laughing at the terrible thought.

But really, it saved him from making a horrible, horrible mistake.

But now? Everything was just…falling into place. Like his therapist had said – when things are all going

in the same direction, suddenly everything is…easy.

When Victor enters his house, the rest of his family is sitting in his kitchen, eating the breakfast that the

chef has cooked up for them. Bacon, poached eggs, sausage, buttered biscuits. He smiles at everyone

there, unable to help himself. Undoubtedly, the food served in this house is better, but he wouldn’t have

given up the cold bowl of cereal he had that morning for it. Not for a second.

“Good morning,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, darling,” his mother says, coming forward and giving him a curious smile. “Everything

all right down at Evelyn’s? I heard something about the heat being off.”

“Yes,” Victor says, running a hand through his hair. He still can’t believe that Alvin and Ian arranged it

all as some kind of parent trap. Even more than that, he can’t believe that it worked. “But it’s better

now.”

“Good,” she says, moving over to the coffee machine. “Do you want a cup?”

“Yes,” Victor says, ignoring the narrow looks that the rest of his family – Bridgette aside – give him for

staying out all night. They’re the ones who called his power into question for not having a Luna by his

side. Well, now he does. Or at least, he will very soon.

Taking the cup of coffee from his mother, Victor heads immediately to his office to get to work. As he

enters, Beta Stephen follows him in.

“Stephen,” Victor says, smiling at his secretary as he settles into his chair. Stephen freezes before him,

looking at him strangely. Victor frowns at him, confused, but then realizes that he’s probably never

smiled at the man before. Victor clears his throat and arranges his face along more serious lines,

folding his hands in front of him.

Then, he tries again. “Do you have a report, Beta?”

Stephen shakes his head, as if to clear it, and then responds. “Yes, sir. An…interesting message, from

Annabeth Prath came through last night.” He hands him a grey file folder. “I think you’ll want to address

this first.”

Frowning, Victor takes the folder from Stephen and nods his dismissal. Stephen leaves him alone while

he reads.

Annabeth Prath called last night, approx. 10:30, to tenure her resignation from the board of the Prath

Institute and ask that her name be stricken from the title of the school. She has indicated that she will

be directing her time, attention, and funds elsewhere in the pursuit of excellence in education.

Frowning, and a little disturbed by this sudden change, Victor picks up his phone, dialing her number

immediately.

“Alpha Kensington,” he says to the receptionist who answers the phone. “I’d like to speak to Mrs.

Prath.”

He waits a few moments for Annabeth to come to the phone. When she does, her voice is icy.

“Alpha Kensington,” she says. “What can I do for you.”

“Annabeth,” he says, his voice worried. “I received a disturbing memo this morning, letting me know

that you are pulling out of the Institute. What has gone wrong?”

“I’ve received word, Victor,” she says, her voice aloof, as if she has merely deigned to talk to him and

regrets taking this call, “that your politics are not precisely what you have purported them to be.”

“What?” he asks, confused. “Annabeth, I promise you, I have never once mislead you about my

politics, about my investment in education or family reform –“

“Please, Kensington,” she says with derision in her voice. He notes, particularly, that she has stopped

calling him by his first name. “Don’t bother to lie to me any further about your politics. I know exactly

where you stand when it comes to families. I just can’t believe I was so taken in by you for so long.”

“Annabeth, please –“

“Mrs. Prath, if you please.”

Victor pauses, taking a deep breath. “Mrs. Prath, please, I mean no disrespect, but I have no idea what

could have caused this change. As far as I am aware, you and I are on the same team, dedicated to

the same mission to help our community improve education for our children.”

“Why don’t you ask Angelina Van Horten,” Annabeth says, her voice scathing. “I’m sure she can help

you better understand. Good day, Alpha Kensington. Please don’t call again.”

With that, she hangs up. Victor lowers his phone and stares at the black screen in his hand. Who the

hell is Angelina Van Horten?

“Sir?”

Victor looks up to see that Burton has peaked his head around the door to his office. “Yes?” He says, a

little distracted but curious as to what the butler might need at this particular moment.

“Sir,” Burton says, closing the door behind him. Victor can see that he has a packet in his hands. “I

hope you will forgive me, but I have been doing some private reconnaissance in the past two weeks.

Just for my own edification.”

Victor draws his eyebrows together in confusion.

“You see, sir,” Burton says, coming to stand in front of Victor’s desk. “When I am in a post with a family

which I quite like, and which I would like to keep, I find that I become quite dedicated to that family.

Dedicated to ensuring that they…fare well in the world.”

Victor nods, encouraging him to continue.

“At Madamoiselle Jones’ last visit, I was…disturbed by her threats against Madame Evelyn and

yourself. And so I took it upon myself to hire a private investigator. To have her followed. Paid for from

my own pocket, of course.”

“Burton,” Victor says, folding his hands together on the desk. “This was unnecessary. I, of course, had

my own Betas on the same project. Amelia has been in San Tropez for weeks, bunkered down in a

hotel there. She hasn’t left the room in weeks.”

“If you will forgive me, sir,” Burton says, hesitating but meeting his eye. “Amelia knows your Beta

forces, and having lived in the same home with them for years, she knows quite well how to evade

them. She is unaware, however, of my man.”

With this, Burton places the packet on the desk and slides it over to Victor.

Looking at him closely, Victor takes the packet, sliding open the seal and tipping out a set of pictures

onto the desk. Slowly, he sorts through them.

“As you can see,” Burton says softly. “Madamoiselle has left San Tropez.” With this, he bows and

heads for the door.

“Burton,” Victor calls after him, lifting his head briefly from the photographs to look him in the eye. “Give

Beta Stephen the bill for your investigator. He will see that you are paid.”

With a small, satisfied smile, Burton bows and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Victor slowly flicks through the photographs, which show Amelia back home at a variety of locations.

The first one which brings real clarity is the photograph of her walking into Prath Industries, a clever

grin playing about her mouth.

Well, this was a lead, at least. But still, who was Angelina Van Horten?

But the one that makes Victor sit back in his chair and study it is the photograph of her at lunch with a

tall man, his curly black hair falling into his face.

He knew that Edgar was upset at losing Evelyn, but would it be enough to make him betray his pack?

Two thing Victors knew for sure: first, that he had to keep tabs on better Amelia. He wouldn’t

underestimate her ever again.

Second, that Burton would be getting a raise.

There’s another knock at the door and Victor sighs, not sure he can handle any more surprises. “What,”

he calls, the good mood of this morning almost entirely wiped away by these developments.

The door opens and his father wheels in.

“Well?” he asks. “Are you ready?”

Victor frowns. “For what?”

“For the third task,” his father says, folding his hands in his lap. “We leave tomorrow.”