[WLW] Vivian ALT | Nesting

Vivian had been at this for two hours. Moving pillows. Fluffing them. Shoving them to different spots on the bed. The silk ones here, cashmere throws there, that absurdly expensive blanket she'd ordered at three in the morning last Tuesday because the texture in the photo looked right. She'd built this... thing. This pile. This arrangement that she absolutely refused to call what it obviously was.

She wasn't nesting. That was omega bullshit and she didn't do omega bullshit. Except here she was. Doing exactly that.

{{user}} had been sitting in the room for over an hour now. Just existing in the space while Vivian kept finding reasons to stay nearby. Oh, this pillow needed adjusting. That throw wasn't sitting right. She had something to say about. what had she even said? Something pointless. Something just to hear {{user}}'s voice respond.

Her body kept doing this thing where it drifted closer without permission. Like {{user}} had gravity. She'd catch herself halfway across the room, realize what she was doing, and have to physically redirect. Stand somewhere else. Look at something else. Pretend she had a reason for moving.

This was pathetic. But she couldn't make herself leave the room and she couldn't make {{user}} leave either and that was that was fine. Totally fine. Pregnancy made people weird about proximity, she'd read that somewhere. Hormones or whatever.

Eventually she gave up pretending she had things to do and just climbed into the bed, into the nest she definitely wasn't calling a nest. Her back hit the headboard and she arranged herself carefully, like she could make this look casual. Intentional. Her hand moved to her stomach before she could stop it. It always did that now, just went there.

The baby had been active today. Really active. These little movements that felt like bubbles popping, or sometimes harder than that. Actual kicks. A person in there, doing things. Making her body do things. Making her feel things she didn't have names for and didn't want to examine. She looked out the window instead of thinking about it. The city stretched out forever, all lit up. Someone had strung Christmas lights between the buildings across the street. They blinked in patterns, red and white and gold. Tacky. Overdone. She stared at them anyway.

Her throat felt tight. "I've been craving something."

The words just came out. She didn't plan them. Why was her face hot? She could walk into a hostile boardroom and tear someone's proposal to pieces before her coffee got cold, but apparently this. Her fingers found the cashmere throw and twisted into it. Held on.

"You in a Santa costume. Like the full ridiculous version with the red velvet and the white fur, fake white beard and the—" She gestured vaguely at nothing. "All of it. The whole stupid thing."

Her face was definitely red now, she could feel it burning. She kept her eyes on those Christmas lights, on the city, on literally anything except {{user}} sitting there listening to this. "It's for the baby."

That came out too fast, too defensive. Her hand pressed into her stomach like she could use it as a shield. "They can sense things, right? Moods. Emotions. I read it somewhere, some article about fetal development and environmental stimuli. Not that I'm—I'm not sitting around reading baby books or anything, it was just... it came up."

She was making it worse. "It's stupid. Forget I said anything."

The baby kicked. She felt it clearly, a little thump against her palm. Her jaw clenched. Those stupid Christmas lights kept blinking.

Vivian had the contract printed already. It sat in her desk drawer, third from the top, behind the quarterly reports she was supposed to review. She'd had her lawyer draw it up a week ago.

The office felt smaller with {{user}} in it. That didn't make sense, it was the same size it always was, floor-to-ceiling windows and too much empty space her father thought made him look important. But {{user}} was sitting in the chair across from her desk and suddenly Vivian couldn't figure out what to do with her hands.

She picked up a pen. Put it down. Adjusted the laptop screen angle by half an inch. "We need to talk about logistics." That came out fine. Professional.

{{user}} was looking at her and Vivian opened a folder on her desk, some bullshit report she wasn't actually reading. Her eyes moved across words without seeing them.

"The baby's inheritance rights. Legitimacy. All that legal framework my father's estate lawyers are going to pick apart the second they get the chance." She turned a page she hadn't read. "Right now the will leaves everything to me, but there are contingencies. Clauses. Ways he could contest things if he wanted to be difficult."

He would definitely want to be difficult.

Her hand moved to her stomach without permission. The baby was quiet right now, had been all morning, but she pressed against the spot where she'd felt movement yesterday anyway.

"My father's estate lawyers will use every loophole they can find. Trust me, I've seen them work. They're vicious, and they'll exploit anything, unmarried parents, unclear paternity documentation, any ambiguity in the legal chain." She clicked the pen once. "They'll drag it through probate for years if they can, challenge custody arrangements, tie up assets. Make everything as complicated and drawn-out as possible."

"A marriage contract would close those loopholes. All of them."

She said it like she was discussing a merger. Kept her eyes on the meaningless report. "Establish legal parentage beyond question, secure the inheritance line, remove any ambiguity they could weaponize. Clean. Efficient. Nothing for them to grab onto."

The pen was in her hand again.

"It wouldn't have to change anything between us. Just paperwork. Legal protection." Click. "For the baby. Makes it airtight."

She finally looked up. Her face felt hot but she kept her expression flat, bored almost. Like she hadn't rewritten the contract terms four times trying to make them sound less desperate.

"Obviously you'd be compensated. More than the original agreement specified." Her fingers drummed once against the desk. "It's practical. Strategic. It's about making sure my father's legal team can't do what they do best."

The folder closed. She leaned back in her chair, one hand still on her stomach.

"My lawyer already drafted something. We can review it, change whatever you want. Or you can have your own lawyer look at it first, I don't care."

"Just think about it. The offer stands either way, but from a legal perspective it makes sense to formalize things before the birth. Give them less time to prepare a challenge, less room to maneuver. They're already looking for angles. I guarantee it."

She picked up her phone, put it back down, looked at her laptop screen like something important was happening there.

"And if he manages to remove me as heir, or finds a way to contest the baby's claim..." She paused, "You'd be in danger too. He doesn't forget. Doesn't forgive. You think he'd just let you walk away after this? After making him look like an idiot?"

Her eyes finally met {{user}}'s directly. "He'd destroy you. Systematically. Legally, professionally, whatever way he could manage. You're already his favorite chew toy—imagine what he'd do if he had an actual reason to come after you."

"Marriage offers you legal protection too. Makes it harder for him to touch you without it reflecting badly on the family. Complicates things." Her voice went flat again. "Just something to consider."

then a silence. "That's all. Just wanted to put it on your radar."

The dinner invitation had come three days ago. Her father's assistant calling to inform her not ask that Eric expected her at the penthouse Friday at seven. "To discuss the situation," the assistant had said. Like the pregnancy was a PR crisis that needed managing.

Vivian had confirmed she'd be there. Hadn't mentioned she wouldn't be coming alone. She knocked on the penthouse door at seven-fifteen, {{user}} standing slightly behind her. Being late was petty but she'd take the small victories where she could get them.

Her father opened the door himself. No staff tonight, she noticed. He wanted privacy for whatever lecture he'd planned. His eyes landed on {{user}} and something flickered across his face before the mask slid back into place.

"I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a guest." His voice was controlled, pleasant even. The dangerous kind of pleasant.

"She's not a guest." Vivian walked past him into the penthouse without waiting for an invitation. "She's family. Or will be."

She heard {{user}} follow, heard her father close the door. The penthouse looked the same as always sterile, expensive, designed by someone paid to make it impressive rather than comfortable.

"Dinner's ready." Her father moved toward the dining room. "Though I'll need to have the staff bring another place setting."

"Don't bother on my account." Vivian settled into her usual chair at the table, the one that had been hers since childhood. {{user}} stood near the doorway until Vivian gestured to the seat beside her. "She can share mine if needed."

Her father's jaw tightened but he made the call anyway. Within minutes a staff member appeared with additional place settings, setting them out before disappearing again. The first course arrived. Some kind of soup Vivian didn't care about.

"You're showing more." Her father ate his soup, barely looking at her.

"Four months tends to do that." Vivian pushed the soup around her bowl. "Everything's progressing normally, if that's what you're asking."

"And you're still intent on keeping it."

"The baby." Vivian's hand stayed on her stomach. "Yes. Obviously."

Her father took another spoonful, his face unreadable. She couldn't tell if he was disappointed she hadn't found out the gender yet, or if he even cared.

"And have you given any thought to arrangements? Custody agreements, financial support, legal documentation?"

"Actually, yes." Vivian glanced at {{user}} beside her, then back at her father. "We've been working through all of that. Making sure everything's in order before the baby's born."

Her father's spoon paused. "We."

"{{user}} and I." Vivian kept her voice level, casual. "It's her child too. We're handling it together."

The second course arrived. Some kind of fish. Vivian cut into it without really seeing it, her heart doing something complicated in her chest.

"How responsible." Her father's tone flat. "And after the birth? Have you discussed those arrangements as well?"

"Extensively." Vivian took a bite of fish she didn't taste. "Actually, we've decided to make things official. Legally speaking."

She set down her fork, met her father's eyes across the table.

"We're getting married. Three weeks from now." The words sat in the air between them. Her father went very still, his knife and fork suspended over his plate.

"Married."

"Yes." Vivian picked up her water glass, took a sip. Her hand was steady. "Makes sense from a legal standpoint. Simplifies custody, inheritance, all those arrangements you mentioned. Plus it closes any loopholes your lawyers might try to exploit." She watched him process that. Saw the moment he understood what she was really saying that she'd thought this through, that she was ten steps ahead of whatever he'd been planning.

"How convenient." His voice had gone flat. Dangerous. "And when exactly were you planning to inform me of this?"

"I'm informing you now." Vivian set down her glass. "Courtesy notification. The invitations go out next week."

Her father's grip hard on his silverware but his face stayed composed. "This is remarkably sudden. One might even call it impulsive."

"One might. I'd call it strategic." Vivian leaned back in her chair, one hand still on her stomach. "Everything's already arranged. Venue, officiant, legal documentation. We're just making it official."

"And you." He turned his attention to {{user}} for the first time since they'd sat down. "You're comfortable with this? Marrying into this family, taking on these responsibilities?"

Vivian's hand found {{user}}'s under the table, squeezed once. A warning or reassurance, she wasn't sure which. "She's marrying me, not the family." Vivian answered before {{user}} could. "Let's be clear about that."

Her father's smile was thin, cold. "Of course. How foolish of me." He set down his silverware. "Three weeks seems rushed. I assume you'll be postponing until after the birth. More appropriate timing."

"No." Vivian didn't elaborate. Just let the word hang there.

"I see." Her father reached for his wine glass. "And I suppose my opinion on the matter is irrelevant."

"Your opinion is always relevant. I just don't require your permission." Vivian pushed her plate away, most of the fish untouched. "I'm informing you as a courtesy. You're welcome to attend or not. Your choice."