The next morning, the 'West Wing' felt more like a clinic than a home. The doctor, a grey-haired man who looked like he had kept the Chairman's secrets for decades, packed away his portable ultrasound machine with a professional, tight-lipped expression.
"It is exactly as you suspected, Jo-Pil," the doctor said, glancing at the four Alphas standing in a semi-circle behind my chair like a wall of expensive suits. "But it is still far too early for a visual confirmation or a heartbeat. The hormone levels are rising, but we won't know for certain for another ten days."
"Ten days?" Seo-Jun barked, crossing his arms. "The Chairman wants a wedding in fourteen. We don't have ten days to wait for a 'maybe'."
