Chapter 120


    #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 buildingbeled Prath Industries.


    “Annabeth Prath, please,” she says to the receptionist waiting for her there, taking off her Louis Vuitton


    sunsses to give the girl a dazzling smile.


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


    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?”


    Content rights by N?velDr//ama.Org.


    “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 ording to


    n. She hears the receptionist behind her making a quick call to let them know that she’s arrived.


    A few momentster, Annabeth herselfes through a set of ss 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 littleugh. “I took a few weeks in San


    Tropez to get my ns in order, and then came back rxed 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 youe in, Amelia?”


    “I’m absolutely dying to,” Amelia says, with a smile that puts Annabeth’s teeth on edge.


    Fifteen minutester, Amelia leaves the Prath offices and climbs back into her car, the hint of a smile


    drifting across her face. Smoothly, she pulls her car out of the parking lot and gets back on the


    highway, heading towards her next stop.


    The next building she pulls up to is much less fancy than the Prath offices. Amelia parks in a spot far


    from the entrance, not eager to be seen. For this one, she doesn’t want to be recognized.


    Amelia reaches into the back of her car, pulling a hoodie and a pair of sneakers out of a bag. In a


    moment, she’s swapped her Jimmy Choos for some beat up Nikes and zipped the hoodie over her silk


    shirt.


    Then, she heads inside, leaving her sunsses on.


    “Hi, wee to Allied Therapy,” says a woman at a beat-up desk. “How can I help?”


    Amelia pitches her voice a little lower than she usually would. “Hello, I’d like to start seeing a therapist.”


    “Okay,” the woman says kindly. “We’d be happy to start that process with you. Is there anything else


    you’d like to tell me, so that maybe we can begin to match you up?”


    “I’m in a troubled rtionship,” 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 this kind of thing.”


    “Sure,” the woman says, giving her an understanding smile. “We actually 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 might work really well.”


    Amelia smiles ndly as the woman 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 woman.


    “Okay,” the woman says, handing over the stack of profiles. “These are some of the profiles of the


    therapists who work with Alpha rtionships. Why don’t you have a look.”


    Amelia epts the packet and begins flicking through them, but she’s frustrated to see that,


    unfortunately, there are at least twenty-five therapists to choose from. Unlikely that she’ll be able to find


    the one with whom Victor was speaking.


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


    in the bunch reads “Evelyn O. Specialization in family and rtionship therapy. Anonymous


    consultation avable, as is remote.”


    Slowly, a smile spreads across Amelia’s face.


    “Nevermind,” she says, tossing the papers back on the woman’s desk. “I changed my mind. We’re


    fine.”


    “Wait –“ the woman calls after her, but Amelia doesn’t turn. She just walks out the door.


    On her way to her third appointment of the day, Amelia lights a cigarette and takes a long, slow puff.


    She’s always loved smoking, but Victor had hated it.


    “Why get addicted now,” he’d say, frowning on the rare asions when 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 you get


    pregnant, and that will be incredibly difficult.”


    Amelia smiles at the memories, blowing smoke out of the window. She had told him she had quit, but it


    just meant she had to be more careful. Like all things with Victor, it was just about controlling what he


    knew.


    She had been sloppy, she knew, at the wedding. Overconfident, not watching her tracks. But now? All


    of her ns were going to fall into ce. She is going to be very careful, very precise, and make sure


    every piece snaps together like a perfect puzzle.


    Amelia finishes the cigarette as she pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. She drops the butt out


    the window and swaps out her shoes again, pulling off the hoodie. As she steps out of the car, she


    stomps out the dying ember of the cigarette with the perfect red bottom of her perfect shoe.


    Entering the restaurant, she saunters casually up to the hostess. “Jones,” she says, not waiting to be


    greeted. “Party of two.”


    “Yes, Miss Jones,” the hostess says, smiling at her with stars in her eyes. Amelia smiles back, pleased


    to be recognized. She likes this restaurant in part because the staff mostly consists of young, pretty


    girls, like this hostess. Girls who read the gossip columns. Girls who recognize her, and give her


    special treatment.


    “Please, just this way,” the hostess says, beaming at her. “The other member of your party is already


    here.”


    Amelia nods, following behind her to a table at the back of the restaurant. Indeed, she sees that the


    man she is meeting is already waiting for her. He stands as she approaches.


    Amelia murmurs her thanks to the hostess, giving her a warm smile, and then turns to her meal


    companion. Amelia takes a minute to look him appreciatively up and down. “Hello,” she says. “It’s nice


    to see you again.”


    He nods, clenching his teeth. “You look beautiful, as always, Amelia.”


    She wrinkles her nose in pleasure and sits gracefully down in her chair, gesturing for him to return to


    his seat as well. “Come on, let’s order, I’m starving. And we’ve got so much to catch up on.”


    He nods and slowly takes his seat.


    Amelia puts her elbow on the table and rests her chin in her open palm. “Now, where shall we begin.


    We have so much to catch up on, Edgar.”