Millicent
Three days after Patrick's unwelcome visit, I couldn't help but notice the increased security around the east wing. Extra guards at the entrance, new cameras in the hallways, patrols in the gardens where I liked to walk. Abel hadn't mentioned it, and I didn't ask. I'd learned to read his protective moves by now - the way he tried to shield me without crossing the boundaries I'd set.
When I arrived at work Monday morning, I found a stack of legal files on my desk with a note in Abel's careful handwriting: "We need to document everything about Patrick. For our child's protection."
The clinical reasoning didn't fool me. I'd seen the rage in his eyes when Patrick had insulted me, felt the alpha power he'd unleashed. But I appreciated him framing it practically. It made it easier t
