Chapter 58

#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.

“In this Breaking News event,” the journalist says, 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 as the children’s mother. We have our best agents on it now – but we encourage viewers to tweet us if they have any leads!”

“Damnit,” Victor says, crossing his arms. “It’s only a matter of time now.”

“Mama, it’s you! Now you’re on tv!” Alvin laughs and claps with joy.

I squint my eyes and study it. “Are you sure it’s me, Alvin? It’s a very blurry picture.”

“Yes, mama, it’s you!” Says Ian, tracing my form on the television screen with his finger.

“Ian,” Amelia says, tsking, exasperated. “Don’t touch the screen with your fingers. You’re going to get it all…sticky.”

Touch it more, Ian, I think, smirking and saying nothing. Maybe I should get him a jelly donut…

I should be devastated by the fact that they’re starting to figure 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 broadcast to the world – again – there’s not much I can do now.

I just sit back and try to ride the wave.

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

“What’s the next step, Victor?” Amelia asks, looking up at him from her spot on the other side of the L-

shaped couch.

He runs a hand through his uncharacteristically disheveled hair, staring passively at the tv. “Well, ideally, 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, unless something else…”

His voice fades out as the show abruptly returns, the words News Flash splashed across the screen.

“We are just now receiving new information,” the same reporter says, her face now bright and eager, “that sources are confirming the identity of the boys’ mother.”

The same blurry photo flashes on the screen. “Persons close to the family are now confirming that this is indeed Evelyn Ortega, a psychologist and single mother who was, until yesterday, a Rogue member of James Willard’s pack.

“However,” the reporter continues, a certain amount of glee now in her voice, “there is evidence that Evelyn Ortega has previously been known as Evelyn Walsh,”

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

“Disowned daughter of Alpha John Walsh, and Victor Kensington’s famous one-night girlfriend.” With this, they flash one of the old, horrible images onto the screen from that night six years ago. Of course, they’ve picked one of the more scandalous photos that a paparazzi took of Victor and I through his suite’s window while I was in a rather…uncommon position.

As it’s prime-time TV, the station was forced to cut out 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 pretty clear what’s happening.

“Oh my god,” Amelia says, shading her eyes with her hand and looking down at her cup of tea. I know she’s not squeamish, and surely she’s seen these images before. I peek at her face and can see that she’s furious.

“Mama!” Alvin says, running forward to the tv to get a better look.

“Mom, when was this?” Ian asks, joining his brother. “Are we in this photo too?”

“Come away form there, boys,” I say, sitting up and waving them over to me. “Victor, can we turn this off? They don’t need to hear this.”

“No,” says Amelia, glaring at me. “I’m watching it.”

“You’re not even looking,” I say, glaring at her scornfully.

Defiantly, she turns her face to the TV and opens her eyes in a big show of paying rapt attention. Victor ignores both of us, fixedly watching the reporter summarize the events of that night.

The journalist on screen presses her finger to her ear, clearly listening to someone feeding her information through a headphone. “Our reporters behind the scene are indeed reporting that the timeline works out. Enrollment for Ian and Alvin Ortega at a local elementary school do report that the boys are approximately six years old, which does suggest that they are precisely the right age to be the product of Victor Kensington’s one-night affair with Evelyn Walsh.”

She takes a minute to continue listening to the voice in her ear. “We further report that after the boys’

claiming yesterday Alpha Kensington did indeed take the formely-Rogue Evelyn Ortega into his custody as a pack member.”

The journalist smirks at us from inside the screen. “Well well well. It looks like Evelyn Walsh is very much back in the picture for Victor Kensington, and the mother of his children to boot. How can Amelia Jones possibly feel about this?”

The reporter’s smirk turns into a downright grin, suggesting that she can’t wait to begin the wild speculation on that front. Amela scoffs and hurriedly stands up from the couch, stomping off into the kitchen. Victor looks after her, but lets her go.

I’m watching Victor watch Amelia and am thus surprised when a little boy barrels into me with a hug.

“Oof!” I say, losing my breath a bit, but wrapping my arms around Ian none the less.

“Mama, now you’re famous too!” He says, smiling up at me. “We’re going to be movie stars!”

“We are?!” I say, pretending to be shocked and excited.

“No, you’re going to be Alphas,” Victor says, a little passively, still studying the TV. “Leaders of men.”

I wink at Ian. “Well, you can go be an Alpha. I’ll be a movie star for both of us.” Ian giggles and nestles down with me in my blankets. Alvin walks over to Victor and stretches his arms high, begging to be picked up. Victor complies.

“I’ll be an Alpha,” Alvin says, resting his head against Victor’s shoulder as they both watch TV.

“Damn fine Alpha, too,” Victor murmurs, stroking our son’s head.

I lose my breath a little, in that moment, watching Victor hold our son, rocking him back and forth, in some ways the very picture of what was now destined to be Alvin’s own future. Would he, too, grow up with so many stresses on his shoulders? I grimace at the thought. But then, looking at Victor, my worries disappear.

He will teach his sons to handle it.