All Chapters of Reject Me, Alpha Tate: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Nicole's POVI got home and stood in the hallway for a full minute before I moved.Amber was on the sofa with Maple, the two of them deep in a book that Maple was explaining to her in great detail despite the fact that she was clearly the one reading. Rosy was at the table with her crayons, head bent, focused, my children were safe. That was the only thing that mattered right now.I hung up my coat, washed my hands at the kitchen sink for longer than necessary, and made a cup of tea I didn't drink.Amber looked up at some point and read my face. "Bedtime in twenty minutes," she said. "I've got it.""Thank you," I said, and meant it in a way that had nothing to do with bedtime.I sat at my desk and stared at the wall. He had said my name. He had seen my face, he knew I was alive. Everything I had built for years was balancing on a very thin edge right now and I needed to think clearly and I couldn't, not yet, not with the sound of his voice still ringing in my ears.Amber got the twin

Nicole's POV Morning comes the way it always does, without asking permission. I've been awake since four, I watched the light change on the ceiling for an hour before I got up and made coffee and sat at my desk and looked at the protocol notes without reading them. The twins woke at six-thirty, Maple first — always Maple first — padding into the kitchen with his hair at war with itself and his book already in his hand, as though he had been reading in his sleep and simply carried on. Rosy followed a few minutes later and climbed directly onto my lap and sat there without speaking, which is what she does most times. I made them breakfast, got them dressed and delivered them to the nursery and came back down the corridor and stood outside Tracy's door for a moment with my hand not quite on the handle, running through my options one more time. Leave, that was the first option. Pack the necessary things, tell Parkville, call in the contingency and take the twins somewhere the scent b

Nicole's POVRosy tells me about the dream at breakfast, between bites of toast."He was in the garden," she says. "It was raining but he wasn't wet, he was just sitting there.""Was he sad?" Maple asks without looking up from his book."A bit." She considers it. "Less than before."I look at my tea."Can I do another drawing?" Rosy says. "It would help.""No more drawings," I say. "We've talked about this.""But Mama""Finish your toast."*********Parkville is already in the lab when I arrive, his wheelchair turned toward the window, a cold cup of tea beside him that he's forgotten about. He turns when he hears me and looks at my face and says, simply, "Sit down."I sit."Tell me," he says.So I told him. The conference room, the document, Marlon registering the twins as his. Tate refused the rejection. The corridor afterward and everything Marlon said as Parkville listens the way he always listens — completely, without interrupting and when I finish he is quiet for a long moment."

Nicole pov Marlon arrives at six with the twins already in their jackets, Maple holding his dragon book and Rosy dragging her small backpack with the rabbit stitched on the front. Marlon gave me a look that signaled he’d made a firm decision he wouldn’t discuss in front of the kids."Ready?" he says to them."Yes," Rosy says very seriously. "I packed my own snacks.""I can see that," Marlon says. "What's in there?""Grapes and one biscuit," she says. "Mama only lets us have one biscuit.""One biscuit is correct," Marlon says, and glances at me. "Go wait by the door."They go, he steps inside and closes the door behind him and stands there looking at me in the quiet of the kitchen."Thank you," I say. "For today, for Amber's plan. For all of it.""It's nothing," he says."It isn't nothing," I say. "You know it isn't."He looks at me for a moment. Then he moves to the kitchen counter and leans against it, arms folded, and looks at the floor."I heard him say your name," he says. "In t

Nicole's POVTracy is already sitting up when I arrive, which is never a good sign this early."You're late," she says.I check the clock on the wall. "I'm four minutes early.""You're late," she says again, like that settles it.I place the tray down and begin morning assessments in silence. First, blood pressure. Tracy extends her arm, projecting the haughty air of a person who is bestowing upon me a monumental personal favor."This one is wrong," she says, pointing at the tray."It's correct," I say. "Same as yesterday.""Yesterday was also wrong.""My notes say you took it without issue yesterday," I say."Your notes," she says, like the concept offends her. I recorded a note as Tracy monitors my progress with the specific look she saves for matters she considers a direct personal insult."I want to see Dr. Carter," she says."Dr. Carter's schedule is managed through ""I know how her schedule is managed," Tracy says. "I have been told how her schedule is managed approximately fo