Mia's POV
A knock at the door interrupted our banter. Morton poked his head in, looking slightly apologetic."Dinner's almost ready," he announced. "Nothing fancy, but there's roast beef, potatoes, and some vegetables. Mia, I assumed you'd stay? There's plenty."Gas perked up at the mention of food, his tail wagging hopefully."Don't worry, buddy," Morton assured him. "I've got something for you too."By the time we finished eating, however, Scarlett was visibly flagging, the brief burst of energy from leaving her sickbed rapidly depleting."You should get back to bed," I said gently, noting the renewed flush in her cheeks. "Your fever's coming back."She nodded, too tired to argue. "I hate being sick. It's so boring.""It's your body telling you to slow down," Morton advised, already moving to help her up. "Even Scarlett Wallace-Morton needs rest occasionally.""Wallace-Morton," she repeated, leaning heavily against his arm. "That stillMia's POVBefore I could process what was happening, Kyle's mouth was on mine, desperate and demanding, tasting of expensive scotch and poor decisions. For a split second, I froze, my brain struggling to catch up with this sudden violation. Gas's barking grew more frantic beside me, his protective instincts in full force as Kyle's hands gripped my shoulders.The initial shock wore off, replaced by a surge of white-hot anger that coursed through my veins. With strength I didn't know I possessed, I shoved hard against Kyle's chest, breaking free from his grip. He stumbled backward, momentarily off-balance, giving me just enough space to raise my hand and deliver a stinging slap across his face.The crack of palm against cheek echoed through the narrow alley, punctuated by Gas's continuing barks."How dare you," I hissed, my entire body trembling with rage. "How dare you grab me like that, touch me like that."Kyle stood frozen, his hand rising slowly to his reddening cheek."Mia—" he st
Mia's POVThe hot water helped wash away the physical sensation of Kyle's grasp, of his mouth forced against mine, though the memory remained stubbornly present.I reached for my tablet, thinking I might distract myself with some mindless scrolling or perhaps work on the children's center designs. And my phone chimed with an incoming video call. Scarlett's name and photo flashed on the screen.I accepted the call, adjusting the screen so the dim lighting wouldn't reveal too much of my current state."Hey, Scar," I greeted, forcing a lightness I didn't feel into my voice. "How are you feeling?"Scarlett's face appeared, still flushed with fever but looking marginally better than when I'd left her earlier. "Like I've been hit by a bus, then backed over for good measure," she replied with her characteristic bluntness. "But Morton's playing Florence Nightingale, so I can't complain too much.""You should be resting," I scolded gently. "Why are you calling so late?"Her image shifted as sh
Mia's POVI woke to gray skies and a steady drizzle against my bedroom window.My dreams had been a chaotic montage of faces—Kyle's desperation, Scarlett's feverish smile, Jeo's unexpected reappearance, and Nate... Nate with his kind eyes and careful distance, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve.Strange dreams.My phone chimed with a text message, and I reached for it reluctantly, half-expecting it to be Kyle with some pathetic apology. Instead, it was Scarlett:Fever broke this morning. Morton insisting I stay in bed anyway.I smiled despite myself, relieved that her condition was improving. I typed back:Dictator Morton sounds like exactly what you need right now. Rest. I'll check on you later.Setting the phone aside, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, taking a moment to find my balance.Gas immediately hopped down and stretched.As I picked at my breakfast, my thoughts returned to the video call with Scarlett and Jeo. The revelation that Jeo and Nate had b
Mia's POV"Nate," I said finally, my patience wearing thin, "if you know something that affects me and my children, you have a moral obligation to tell me. Not in riddles, not in vague warnings, but directly."The silence on the other end of the line stretched on for so long that I checked my phone screen to make sure we were still connected. We were."Nate? Are you still there?"A heavy sigh filtered through the connection. "I'm here.""Then talk to me," I pressed.Silence. And silence.I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Getting angry wouldn't help, and it certainly wouldn't get Nate to open up."Look," I said, softening my tone, "I need to be honest with you about something. There's a reason I'm pushing so hard for answers."Another pause. "What is it?"I closed my eyes, preparing for his reaction. "When I was in Paris, I went to see the Jardin House."The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line told me everything I needed to know."You knew," he said flatly. N
Mia's POV"Nate," I said carefully, "what do you know that I don't?"I could hear Nate's breathing on the other end, slightly uneven, as if he was wrestling with himself."I—" he began, then stopped. "There are things I can't explain, Mia.""Nate, please," I said, my voice softer now. "I'm tired of riddles. I have two babies to protect. If you know something that puts us at risk, you need to tell me.""I..." There was a muffled sound on his end, like someone speaking in the background. "I have to go," he said suddenly, his tone shifting to urgency."Nate, wait—""I'll protect you, Mia," he promised. "please consider what I said about Paris.""I can't just—""I have to take this call," he interrupted.The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief."What the hell?" I whispered to the empty room."I'm tired of this," I said aloud to Gas, who tilted his head as if considering my words. "Tired of everyone treating me like some fragile doll who can't
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
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 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 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
Mia's POV"Nate," I said carefully, "what do you know that I don't?"I could hear Nate's breathing on the other end, slightly uneven, as if he was wrestling with himself."I—" he began, then stopped. "There are things I can't explain, Mia.""Nate, please," I said, my voice softer now. "I'm tired of riddles. I have two babies to protect. If you know something that puts us at risk, you need to tell me.""I..." There was a muffled sound on his end, like someone speaking in the background. "I have to go," he said suddenly, his tone shifting to urgency."Nate, wait—""I'll protect you, Mia," he promised. "please consider what I said about Paris.""I can't just—""I have to take this call," he interrupted.The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief."What the hell?" I whispered to the empty room."I'm tired of this," I said aloud to Gas, who tilted his head as if considering my words. "Tired of everyone treating me like some fragile doll who can't
Mia's POV"Nate," I said finally, my patience wearing thin, "if you know something that affects me and my children, you have a moral obligation to tell me. Not in riddles, not in vague warnings, but directly."The silence on the other end of the line stretched on for so long that I checked my phone screen to make sure we were still connected. We were."Nate? Are you still there?"A heavy sigh filtered through the connection. "I'm here.""Then talk to me," I pressed.Silence. And silence.I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Getting angry wouldn't help, and it certainly wouldn't get Nate to open up."Look," I said, softening my tone, "I need to be honest with you about something. There's a reason I'm pushing so hard for answers."Another pause. "What is it?"I closed my eyes, preparing for his reaction. "When I was in Paris, I went to see the Jardin House."The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line told me everything I needed to know."You knew," he said flatly. N
Mia's POVI woke to gray skies and a steady drizzle against my bedroom window.My dreams had been a chaotic montage of faces—Kyle's desperation, Scarlett's feverish smile, Jeo's unexpected reappearance, and Nate... Nate with his kind eyes and careful distance, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve.Strange dreams.My phone chimed with a text message, and I reached for it reluctantly, half-expecting it to be Kyle with some pathetic apology. Instead, it was Scarlett:Fever broke this morning. Morton insisting I stay in bed anyway.I smiled despite myself, relieved that her condition was improving. I typed back:Dictator Morton sounds like exactly what you need right now. Rest. I'll check on you later.Setting the phone aside, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, taking a moment to find my balance.Gas immediately hopped down and stretched.As I picked at my breakfast, my thoughts returned to the video call with Scarlett and Jeo. The revelation that Jeo and Nate had b
Mia's POVThe hot water helped wash away the physical sensation of Kyle's grasp, of his mouth forced against mine, though the memory remained stubbornly present.I reached for my tablet, thinking I might distract myself with some mindless scrolling or perhaps work on the children's center designs. And my phone chimed with an incoming video call. Scarlett's name and photo flashed on the screen.I accepted the call, adjusting the screen so the dim lighting wouldn't reveal too much of my current state."Hey, Scar," I greeted, forcing a lightness I didn't feel into my voice. "How are you feeling?"Scarlett's face appeared, still flushed with fever but looking marginally better than when I'd left her earlier. "Like I've been hit by a bus, then backed over for good measure," she replied with her characteristic bluntness. "But Morton's playing Florence Nightingale, so I can't complain too much.""You should be resting," I scolded gently. "Why are you calling so late?"Her image shifted as sh
Mia's POVBefore I could process what was happening, Kyle's mouth was on mine, desperate and demanding, tasting of expensive scotch and poor decisions. For a split second, I froze, my brain struggling to catch up with this sudden violation. Gas's barking grew more frantic beside me, his protective instincts in full force as Kyle's hands gripped my shoulders.The initial shock wore off, replaced by a surge of white-hot anger that coursed through my veins. With strength I didn't know I possessed, I shoved hard against Kyle's chest, breaking free from his grip. He stumbled backward, momentarily off-balance, giving me just enough space to raise my hand and deliver a stinging slap across his face.The crack of palm against cheek echoed through the narrow alley, punctuated by Gas's continuing barks."How dare you," I hissed, my entire body trembling with rage. "How dare you grab me like that, touch me like that."Kyle stood frozen, his hand rising slowly to his reddening cheek."Mia—" he st