Mia's POVKyle nodded, seemingly unsurprised by my response. "I understand." I looked into his grey eyes. There was a small reflection of me there. Could I really consider him only a father to my boys?He handed me the flowers. After a moment's hesitation, I took it, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The brief contact sent an unwanted jolt of awareness through me."Thank you," I managed.He just nodded.We'd reached the hotel's side entrance, the discreet door I'd slipped out through earlier. Kyle stopped a respectful distance away, making no move to follow me inside."Goodnight, Mia," he said softly. "Take care of yourself. And them.""Goodnight, Kyle."As I entered the hotel and made my way back to the suite, my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The pendant seemed to burn in my pocket, a tangible reminder of the past. I wanted to end it, but Kyle wasn't going to let that happen. I was a lost sailor, and he had the song of a siren. Was he trying to lea
Mia‘s POVThe Louvre was everything the guidebooks promised and more. I visited once when I was very young. But I don't remember anything now. It's like a brand new visit.I was particularly drawn to the Greek antiquities, something about their weathered permanence speaking to me in ways the more flamboyant Renaissance paintings didn't. The twins seemed to appreciate the art as well, shifting and kicking whenever we stopped for a particularly detailed explanation."They're already developing excellent taste," Scarlett observed when I shared this with her. "Morton will approve."I can't help but stand in front of these collections for a long time. Many of them have passed through thousands of years. How many people had seen them before? People always feel that the sadness they have experienced is hard to let go, but in front of them, it is just a flash in the pan.After the museum, we enjoyed a light lunch at a café overlooking the Seine, watching tourists and locals pass by in the aut
Mia's POVWith a sigh, I closed the box and slid it into my bedside drawer, beneath my journal and the Paris guidebook I'd barely opened. I'd deal with my complicated feelings about the gift—and its giver—later."Mia?" Scarlett called again, her voice closer now. "Are you decent? I'm coming in!"I quickly shut the drawer just as she breezed into the room, a whirlwind of energy and expensive perfume. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, eyes bright."You will not believe what Baptiste arranged for tomorrow," she announced, flopping onto my bed with the casual confidence of someone who's been doing it since childhood sleepovers. "We're getting a private viewing of the Musée d'Orsay before it opens to the public. Just us! Can you imagine? All those Monets and Van Goghs without tourists blocking the view.""How did he manage that?" I asked."Magic? Bribery? Who cares!" She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand to study me. "How was your afternoon? You look... contemplati
Mia's POVDinner was at a Michelin-starred restaurant overlooking the Eiffel Tower, the kind of place where the menu didn't list prices and the wine list was thicker than most novels. Morton was already seated when we arrived, rising with impeccable manners as we approached."Scarlett. Mia." He nodded to each of us in turn, pulling out my chair first with old-world gallantry. "You both look lovely."Scarlett didn't say anything. That's very unscarlett of her. I felt a little strange.Morton either didn't notice or chose to ignore it, signaling for the sommelier before turning to me. "How was the museum this morning? Scarlett mentioned a private viewing.""It was amazing," I said sincerely."I'm glad to hear it." He nodded. "And your meeting with Leblanc is tomorrow?""Yes, at ten." I said."Bernard Leblanc has a reputation for innovation," Morton agreed.The conversation flowed easily enough through the extravagant meal. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something was strained bet
Mia's POVShe led me through a glass door into what appeared to be the main studio space—a vast, open area where architects and designers worked at modernist desks. The energy was palpable, a creative hum underlying the quiet concentration of professionals at work.At the far end of the studio, a man rose from his desk and walked toward me. Bernard Leblanc was in his early sixties, with silver-streaked dark hair and the kind of face that seemed permanently set in thoughtful contemplation. His handshake was firm, his smile genuine."Madame Williams," he greeted me in lightly accented English. "Welcome to Leblanc & Associates. Dr. Pierce has told me much about your work.""Thank you for meeting with me," I replied, pleased that my voice came out steady and professional despite my nerves. "I'm a great admirer of your firm's approach to therapeutic environments.""Please, come to my office where we can speak more comfortably." He gestured toward a glass-walled space at the corner of the s
Mia's POV"Take a deep breath and read it again," Scarlett instructed, perched on the edge of the sofa. "Every word. I want to make sure we're not missing anything."I smoothed the letter from Bernard Leblanc on the coffee table, though it was already perfectly flat. My hands were trembling slightly."It's all here," I said, skimming the elegant letterhead once more. "Six-month initial consultancy, with option for extension or permanent position. Remote work possible for the first six months, then..." I paused, the implications hitting me fully. "Then relocation to Paris would be necessary.""Paris," Scarlett repeated, testing the word. "You. Living in Paris.""It's just a possibility at this point," I reminded her, though my heart raced at the thought. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to accept the consultancy."Scarlett gave me a look that clearly said she wasn't buying my hesitation. "Please. You were practically glowing when you walked through that door. I haven't seen you thi
Mia's POV I pushed myself up from the sofa and headed to my room to change into something comfortable for an afternoon of architecture appreciation. The navy dress I'd worn to the meeting was lovely but not ideal for wandering around Parisian neighborhoods.I opted for a loose, comfortable sweater dress in soft gray with black leggings and supportive flats. A light jacket, my purse with the precious job offer letter, and I was ready.As promised, Henri was waiting by the side entrance, the black Mercedes gleaming in the autumn sunlight."Good afternoon, Madame," he greeted me with his usual formal politeness. "Where would you like to go today?""The 16th arrondissement," I said, settling into the back seat with relief. "I'd like to see some of the residential architecture there.""Ah, beautiful homes," he nodded approvingly. "Any particular address?"I hesitated. "Not exactly. I'm looking for a specific house but only have a general idea of where it might be. Maybe we could drive thr
Mia's POVThe drive back to the hotel passed in a blur.Carol was Nate's wife.The revelation shouldn't have shocked me as much as it did. Nate had mentioned her death, after all. But somehow, I'd never made the connection that she might have been his wife rather than a girlfriend. The depth of his loss suddenly took on new dimensions.And to build an entire home for her, filled with every detail she might have loved...only to lose her before she could ever step foot inside.Could this be true? Did this really happen to Dr. Pierce? To my friend Nate?"Madame? Are you alright?" Henri's concerned voice broke through my thoughts.I blinked, realizing we'd arrived back at the hotel. "Yes, sorry. Just thinking.""You seem troubled," he observed gently. "Was the architecture not what you hoped?""It was beautiful," I said, gathering my purse as he came around to open my door. "Just...sad."Henri helped me from the car with quiet efficiency. "Many beautiful things in Paris have sad stories b
Mia's POV"I still don't understand why Taylor is so fixated on hurting you," Scarlett said, popping another chocolate into her mouth. "I mean, I know she's always been jealous, but this goes way beyond normal stepsister rivalry. She's literally risking life in prison to keep coming after you."I'd wondered the same thing, especially after discovering Edward Porter's involvement. "I think it started as jealousy, but now?" I shook my head."Or it's not about you at all," Mom suggested quietly.Scarlett and I both turned to look at her."What do you mean?" I asked.Mom had a distant look in her eyes, the one she got when piecing together complex puzzles. "What if Taylor is just a pawn in a larger game? What if someone is using her?""Much more reasonable," Scarlett said.Mom nodded. "But why target Mia specifically? What does he gain from harming her?""Revenge against Kyle?" I suggested. "If Porter had a falling out with Alexander Branson, maybe he's trying to hurt Kyle through me and
Mia's POVGas's ears perked up a full minute before the doorbell rang, his keen senses detecting Scarlett's approach well before the elevator delivered her to our floor. His tail began wagging furiously as he positioned himself by the door.Dogs are so smart."Someone's excited," I commented, pushing myself up.Mom looked up from her laptop. "I'll get it. You stay put.""I'm fine," I insisted, already halfway to the door. "I've been 'putting' all day. I need to move a little."She gave me her patented maternal look.I opened the door just as Scarlett raised her hand to knock again. She stood there in sleek black pants and an emerald silk blouse that made her red hair look like living flame, a large designer bag slung over one shoulder and what appeared to be several shopping bags clutched in her other hand."Finally!" she exclaimed, sweeping past me in a cloud of expensive perfume. "Do you know how many security checkpoints I had to go through to get up here? Your lobby looks like the
Mia‘s POVThe tension in Robert's office was palpable. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, one hand resting protectively over my growing belly as I tried to process what he had just told us."Released again?" My mother's voice cut through the silence, sharp with disbelief. "How is that even possible?"Robert sighed, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose—a gesture I'd come to recognize as his tell for extreme frustration. "The judge cited insufficient evidence that the text message came directly from Taylor. Her attorney argued successfully that anyone could have sent that message from an unidentified number.""But it was clearly her," I insisted, feeling the twins shift restlessly as my blood pressure rose. "Who else would send something like that?""I know," Robert agreed, his normally composed face showing rare signs of genuine anger. "But Whitfield managed to create just enough reasonable doubt. He argued that with Taylor's notoriety following her arrest, anyone could
Mia's POV"What?" The news caught me completely off guard. "Since when?""About two weeks ago," she replied, labeling the vial of blood. "It was quite sudden."Two weeks ago—right around the time I returned from Paris. Were the timing coincidental? Nate had left without a word, without even a goodbye text."Are you okay?" the nurse asked, noticing my distress. "Your pulse just jumped.""I'm fine," I assured her, though my mind was racing. "Just surprised. He was my mother's doctor for years."The nurse nodded sympathetically. "A lot of patients were upset when he left. He was very popular here." She applied a bandage to my arm. "All done. The doctor should have these results soon."After she left, Kyle studied my face. "You seem to care a lot about Nate.""He is my friend," I said, not wanting to explain anything. " He has three dogs that Gas loves to play with." I added.Kyle's expression was unreadable. "I see."Mom returned before the conversation could continue, carrying a bag fro
Mia's POVI didn't ask him why he was here. Apparently, Kyle Branson had his own ways."She's resting," Mom was saying, her voice low. "Dr. Matthews says it's not labor, but they're monitoring her for preeclampsia."Kyle's face was taut. "Is there anything I can do?""Not at the moment," Mom replied. "They're running tests and giving her medication to stop the contractions."I shifted slightly, the movement catching their attention. Kyle's eyes immediately found mine."Hey," he said, moving into the room. "How are you feeling?""Groggy," I admitted. "But the contractions are less intense now."He nodded, glancing at the monitor displaying the twins' heart rates. "They look good?""Strong and steady," I confirmed. "Dr. Matthews isn't concerned about them, just about my blood pressure and the contractions."Kyle looked like he wanted to say more but was restraining himself. He settled for a simple, "Good. That's good."Mom checked her watch. "I should call Mrs. Patel and see how Gas is
Mia's POV"It's just Braxton Hicks," I insisted, trying to breathe through another uncomfortable wave of tightness across my abdomen. The pain wasn't unbearable, but the increasing frequency had even me worried now.Mom's expression made it clear she wasn't buying my dismissal. "That's the third one in twenty minutes, Mia. I'm calling Dr. Matthews."Before I could protest further, Mom was already on the phone, her voice crisp and authoritative as she explained the situation to Dr. Matthews's office. I caught fragments of the conversation—"Seven months with twins," "Contractions about six minutes apart," "History of pregnancy complications."The last part made my stomach clench with anxiety. My first pregnancy had ended traumatically on those marble stairs. The memory of Taylor's smug face as I lost consciousness, bleeding and terrified, flashed unbidden through my mind.I think my body is still terrified of all that."Dr. Matthews wants us to come in right away," Mom said, ending the
Mia's POVI considered showing the message to my mother but decided against it. She had enough to worry about without adding Taylor's threats to her burden. Instead, I blocked the unknown number and tried once more to sleep, Gas's warm presence beside me providing some comfort.Morning came too quickly, pale November sunlight filtering through my blinds.I went out of the room."You look terrible," mom said bluntly. "Did you sleep at all?""Not really." I eased myself onto a kitchen stool, wincing as my back protested. "Taylor texted me last night."Mom's face hardened. "What? How did she get your number?""I don't know. But I forwarded it to Robert. He's contacting the DA this morning.""What did she say?" Mom asked, already reaching for her phone as if ready to make calls of her own.I hesitated, not wanting to repeat Taylor's exact words. "Just threats. Nothing specific. But it's a clear viol
Mia's POV"We should get ready," Mom said, already moving toward her room. "Whatever Robert's found, it sounds important."The journey to Robert's office in Midtown was slowed by unusually heavy traffic. By the time we arrived, my back was aching from sitting in the taxi, and my anxiety had reached a fever pitch.Robert's assistant showed us immediately into his corner office, where he waited with a stack of documents spread across his desk. He looked up as we entered, his expression both triumphant and troubled."Thank you for coming," he said, rising to greet us. "Please, sit down. This might take some time to explain."Once we were settled, Robert pulled out a folder and placed it in front of us. "We've been tracking the money that's been funding Taylor's defense—the bail payment, Whitfield's retainer, everything. It's been carefully concealed, routed through multiple shell companies and offshore accounts."
Mia's POVKyle complied, his posture perfectly straight, hands resting lightly on his knees. I studied him for a moment, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that he might be playing both sides."Did you pay Taylor's bail?" I asked directly, seeing no point in dancing around the issue.His expression shifted. "What?""Taylor's bail," I repeated. "Did you pay it? Are you funding her defense?""No," he said, frowning. "Of course not. Why would you think that?""Because someone with significant resources is helping her," I replied, watching his face carefully. "She appeared in court yesterday with Carson Whitfield—one of the most expensive defense attorneys in the city—and posted a million-dollar bail without hesitation."Kyle's frown deepened. "Carson Whitfield? He doesn't typically handle cases like Taylor's.""Exactly. Which means someone with connections arranged it. Someone with