Mia's POV
"Fair?" In this creepy movie-like space, I took all my pent-up anger and lashed out at Kyle. “There is no fairness here.”
After a while, he admitted, "No. None of that was fair."
"So forgive me if I don't find your declarations of 'family' particularly meaningful," I continued, unable to stop now that I'd started. "You don't get to decide we're family when it's convenient for you."
One of the twins kicked sharply, as if in agreement, and I winced, placing a hand over the spot.
"Are you alright?" Kyle asked immediately, taking a step toward me.
"I'm fine," I said automatically. "Just one of your sons expressing his opinion."
Kyle stopped with uncertainty. "May I..." he hesitated. "May I feel?"
“No.” I said, looking at him, and Kyle's eyes immediately darkened.
Despite being the biological father, Kyle had only felt the twins move once. That day in Paris when the pendant h
Mia's POVI was about to stand up, but my big belly made it impossible. “Shut up, Kyle.”I said."Please, just hear me out," he interrupted gently. "You were right that I was confused. Finding out you were the girl from the warehouse..."I shook my head. “I can't listen to this anymore, Kyle.”As if he didn't hear what I said, he continued, undeterred. "But you were wrong about one thing. I didn't suddenly start loving you because of that revelation. It just forced me to acknowledge what I'd been suppressing for years."This is ridiculous."Kyle, shut the fuck up.," I said, "Stop. "This isn't the time or place for this conversation."Kyle looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he nodded, respecting my boundary. "You're right. I apologize."We lapsed into silence again, this one more charged than before. I stared at the elevator doors, willing them to open and rescue me from t
Mia's POV"Ms. Williams? Are you alright?"I turned to find our building's doorman, Eduardo, watching me with concern."Yes," I managed, forcing a smile. "Just a little tired.""Let me help you with the door," he said, moving to hold it open."Thank you," I said, stepping into the building's lobby. "Eduardo, did you notice a blonde woman watching the building just now? Across the street?"He frowned, peering outside. "No, ma'am, I didn't see anyone suspicious. Would you like me to check?""No, that's alright." I didn't want to alarm him unnecessarily. "Probably just my imagination."But it wasn't my imagination, and we both knew it. Eduardo had been briefed on the security concerns regarding Taylor. His careful neutrality told me he was taking my question seriously."I'll keep an eye out," he promised, escorting me to the elevator. "And I'll alert the security team about possible suspicious activity."
Mia's POVThe courtroom felt impossibly small that morning, every sound amplified in the tense atmosphere. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, trying to find a position that didn't make my back ache. At almost seven months pregnant with twins, comfort was becoming a distant memory."You okay?" Mom whispered, her hand finding mine.I nodded. The truth was, I wasn't okay.I had a feeling that today would not be very easy. Especially after I saw that possible “Taylor”.Robert, our attorney, leaned over from my other side. "Remember, this is just a formality. With the evidence we have, the judge should deny bail."The courtroom doors opened, and the bailiff called for everyone to rise as Judge Harriet Monroe entered. She was a severe-looking woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and rectangular glasses that seemed to magnify her already piercing gaze."Please be seated," she inst
Mia's POVImmediately? My eyes widened as I looked at Robert, who appeared equally surprised."Where is she getting this kind of money?" I whispered.Robert shook his head slightly. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."As the proceedings concluded, I watched Taylor being escorted out to process her release. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted.Outside the courtroom, reporters had gathered despite the court's attempts to keep the proceedings low-profile. Camera flashes erupted as we emerged, voices calling out questions."Mrs. Branson, how do you feel about the court's decision today?""Ms. Williams, were you surprised by the bail amount?""Are you concerned about Taylor Matthews being released?"Robert stepped in front of us, blocking the reporters. "No comments at this time. Please respect my clients' privacy."He guided us toward a side exit where a car was waiting, Mom keeping a
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
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 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"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 POVA week before Christmas, snow fell gently outside my window. The city sparkled with holiday lights. I should have felt festive. I didn't.Kyle hadn't called. Not once.Three weeks since the park incident.I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The twins kicked inside me, restless like their mother.I haven't called him. Why should I? He punched Thomas. Acted like a caveman.But his absence hurts. I hate that it hurts.The twins will arrive in January. Where is their father?I never realized that I would want Kyle to be there when I gave birth.Scarlett dropped the bomb at dinner yesterday."Kyle's in Paris," she said, watching me over her wineglass. "Been there two weeks now. Morton says it's about the Diana Porter scandal."I pretended not to care. Changed the subject. Kept my face blank.Kyle in Paris. An ocean away.I guessed that business were always first.Why did I expect anything different?A sharp kick beneath my ribs. Twin A - always the troublemaker.They're
Kyle's POVThe photograph lay on my desk like an accusation. Thomas Wallace, his face too close to Mia's, his hand resting on the small of her back as they walked through the children's center construction site. Her smile—that rare, genuine expression I'd seen directed at me so infrequently during our marriage—illuminated her face as she looked up at him.I slammed my fist against the mahogany desktop, sending a cascade of reports scattering to the floor. The security team I'd assigned to protect her had delivered these images this morning, and each one felt like a personal betrayal. Logically, I knew I had no right to these feelings. We were divorced. I had forfeited any claim on her emotions long ago.Logic, however, did nothing to quell the rage coursing through me.I paced the length of my corner office, the New York skyline a blur beyond the windows. Something primitive and possessive clawed at my insides. The thought of Thomas, for god's sake, stepping into the life I had ruined
Mia's POV"Kyle!" I exclaimed, shock and anger flooding through me. "What are you doing?"Kyle stood over Thomas, his chest heaving, fists still clenched at his sides. "Stay away from my wife," he growled."Ex-wife," I corrected automatically, moving to Thomas's side. "Are you alright?"Thomas touched his jaw gingerly, wincing. "I'll live," he muttered, his eyes never leaving Kyle's face. "Though your ex-husband seems determined to change that."Gas barked frantically, clearly distressed by the sudden violence. Several park-goers had stopped to stare, and I realized with horror that this scene was likely to make tomorrow's gossip columns if any of them recognized Kyle."This is ridiculous," I said, helping Thomas to his feet. "Kyle, you need to leave. Now.""I'm not going anywhere," Kyle retorted, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "Not while he's with you."I stepped between the two men, one hand protectively on my belly. "This is none of your business, Kyle. Thomas was hel
Mia's POVThe brisk winter air felt refreshing against my face as Thomas and I strolled through Madison Square Park. Gas trotted happily ahead of us, his white fur bright against the dormant winter grass. I placed a hand on my lower back, trying to ease the persistent ache that had become my constant companion in these final weeks of pregnancy."Are you comfortable?" Thomas asked, his eyes filled with concern. "We can head back if you're getting tired.""I'm fine," I assured him, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "This was a good idea. I needed to get out of that apartment."Thomas had shown up at my door unexpectedly, bearing Mediterranean food and a gentle insistence that fresh air would do me good. After days cooped up with nothing but my troubled thoughts for company, I'd finally relented. My mother was out at another of her mysterious "appointments," and the walls had been closing in on me."I'm glad you agreed to come," Thomas said, matching his pace to my ungainly waddle. "You s
Mia's POVI stood by the hospital bed, staring at my father's battered form with mixed emotions. After receiving the call about his "incident" at the prison, I'd came to Mount Sinai Hospital. Now, seeing Richard Williams lying there with tubes and monitors attached to him, I felt karma was real."You came," he said,"I wasn't sure you would.""I almost didn't. My lawyer thought it was a bad idea."My father's eyes flickered to where my attorney stood near the door, then back to me. The harsh hospital lighting emphasized the damage to his face—a swollen eye, split lip, and various bruises spreading across his features."Thank you. I know I don't deserve your concern.""I'm not here out of concern," I clarified. "I'm here because you claimed to have information that affects my safety."A nurse entered, checked his vitals, and adjusted his medication. I waited until she left before continuing."What happened to you?" I asked, gesturing to his injuries."Prison justice," he replied with a
Mia's POVThe package arrived on an ordinary Tuesday morning. No return address, just my name and address printed in neat block letters that bore no distinguishing characteristics. The delivery man had already disappeared down the hallway by the time I opened the door, summoned by the soft knock."Who was that?" Mom called."Delivery," I replied, turning the padded manila envelope over in my hands."What did you order?" She appeared in the doorway, a dish towel slung over one shoulder."Nothing." I held up the package. I carefully tore along the sealed edge.A leather-bound journal, its cover worn at the corners, the pages slightly yellowed with age. The leather was soft, as if it had been handled often, and a delicate ribbon marker protruded from between the pages. There was no note accompanying it, nothing to indicate who had sent it or why."What is it?" Mom asked, peering over my shoulder.I opened the cover carefully, looking for an inscription or any identifying information. On
Mia's POVAs I filled the kettle for morning tea, my phone rang—an unknown number with a local area code. Normally, I'd let such calls go to voicemail, wary of reporters still trying to get comments about the Branson scandal. But something—intuition perhaps—prompted me to answer."Hello?"There was silence on the other end, followed by a crackle of static that suggested an institutional phone system."Hello?" I repeated, irritation creeping into my voice. "Who is this?""Mia."The voice sent ice through my veins, familiar despite the years."Father."The word felt foreign on my tongue, a relic from a past I'd tried to put behind me. Richard Williams."You answered," he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I wasn't sure you would.""I didn't recognize the number," I replied, my tone deliberately cool. "What do you want?""Is that any way to greet your father?" The familiar note of manipulation had already crept into his voice, the subtle reminder that I owed him respect regardless of h
Mia's POV"Yes, Mom. I'm awake," I called, adjusting myself against the pillows as she peered around the door. "That was a short appointment."She hesitated in the doorway. "It was canceled. The weather, you know."I nodded, though I didn't entirely believe her explanation. The snow, while steady, was hardly a blizzard. New Yorkers carried on through far worse conditions. But I let it pass, unwilling to interrogate her about a private matter she clearly wasn't ready to share."Are you comfortable?" she asked. "You shouldn't stay in bed all day. A little movement is good for circulation.""I was just resting," I assured her. "I had some soup, like you suggested.""Good. I have some papers to review in my office. Will you be alright on your own for a while?""I'm not an invalid, Mom," I reminded her with a smile. "Just pregnant.""Very pregnant," she corrected.After she left, I remained in bed a while longer, listening to the soft sounds of her moving about in her office across the hal
Mia's POVDecember arrived with its first snow, transforming New York into a landscape of pristine white. I stood at the window, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the frosted glass as I observed the silent descent of snowflakes. My reflection stared back at me, a woman has a belly that had expanded to proportions I once would have deemed impossible.The cold had settled into the city with unusual vigor this year, mirroring the chill that had descended upon the Branson name. Each day brought fresh allegations against Alexander Branson, each more damning than the last. The media, like vultures circling a wounded animal, released evidence piece by piece, ensuring the scandal remained perpetually fresh in the public consciousness."Murder," they called it now. Alexander Branson, murderer of Diane Porter—a truth accepted so readily by a public hungry for the downfall of the wealthy and powerful.I sighed, my breath creating a momentary fog upon the window.Diane Porter had been revealed