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 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
Mia's POV"Congratulations," Dr. Ray said with a gentle smile, "you're pregnant."I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Her smile never wavered as she guided my attention to the screen, pointing to two tiny dots pulsing in sync.“Twins,” she added. “You’re having twins.”Twins? I couldn't even grasp the reality of being pregnant. I had been so careful—so cautious. The pills Kyle had insisted I take every single day were supposed to prevent this. We had a contract—one that explicitly forbade a pregnancy. That was the deal, after all.“I… I’ve been taking the pills,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands shook, and I placed them on the edge of the examination table, trying to steady myself.Dr. Ray glanced at me with a slight frown. “If you've been taking them regularly. Are you sure you've been consistent?”I hesitated, unsure. My memory was hazy. There had been moments when I had been distracted. “I…” My voice cracked, and I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”Dr. Ray’s expressio
Mia's POV Kyle walked out of the bathroom. I quickly turned away from his phone, my heart pounding. He picked up the device and left the bedroom without a word to me. The door clicked shut behind him. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. Even through the closed door, I could hear the low murmur of his voice. He always spoke to her in that gentle tone. That is a tone I'd never heard him use with me. I pressed my face against my knees, trying to hold back my tears. My hand moved unconsciously to my stomach. What would Taylor say if she knew I was carrying Kyle's babies? My stepsister had already taken so much from me. My father, my home, my inheritance - and now she wanted Kyle back. The memories came flooding back, making me feel sick. I was fifteen when my mother fell into a coma. I thought my father would be there for her. I was wrong. A week after that, he brought home his new wife and her daughter Taylor. That's when my whole world fell apart. That
Mia's POVThe morning sickness hit me as soon as I woke up. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Dark circles under my eyes. Pale skin. I had to look better than this. I couldn't let anyone at work suspect anything.Linda was waiting for me when I arrived at the office. "Are you feeling better?""Yes, much better." I forced a smile. Linda watched me carefully, but didn't push.Linda’s expression as neutral as ever, holding out two cups of coffee. “He asked for these,” she murmured, her tone professional, yet I could sense a hint of pity in her eyes.My stomach churned at the thought of coffee, but I nodded. "Sure."I balanced the two cups carefully. Two cups. My heart sank. I already knew who the second one was for.When I pushed open Kyle's office door, Taylor was perched on the edge of his desk. She wore a tight red dress that probably cost more than my monthly salary. Her perfectly manicured hand rested on Kyle's shoulder."Oh, look who it is," Taylor's voice dripped honey. "H
Mia's POVI sat in the dark living room, watching the hours tick by. The house felt emptier than usual. Kyle hadn't come home since the incident at the office three days ago. I knew he was punishing me, but I still waited.The clock struck midnight. Then one. Then two. No Kyle.My phone buzzed, startling me. A message from an old college friend lit up my screen."Hey stranger! Long time no see. Coffee tomorrow?"Jeo Parker. I hadn't heard from him in ages. Back in college, we'd spent countless hours together in the art studio. He'd always believed in my talent, even when I didn't.I hesitated before replying. A coffee wouldn't hurt, would it?"Sure. Where?"The next morning, I found myself at a quiet café downtown. Jeo was already there, his familiar smile warming the room. He stood when he saw me, and I was struck by how well time had treated him. His dark hair was stylishly messy, his blue eyes as kind as I remembered."Mia Williams," he said, pulling me into a gentle hug. "Still as
Kyle's POVI couldn't focus on work. The image of Mia with that man kept playing in my mind. Jeo Parker. Even his name irritated me."Linda," I called through the intercom. "Get me everything you can find on Jeo Parker.""The designer?" Linda's voice was carefully neutral. "Right away, sir."I loosened my tie. The office felt too hot. What would Mia be doing at his design firm? Would she be alone with him? Would they work late together? Artists do that sort of thing, don't they?The thought of them in his studio made my jaw clench. Would he teach her how to hold a brush? Would his hands touch hers? Would they work on portraits? Would she pose for him?I yanked my tie completely off. The images wouldn't stop. Mia smiling at him the way she used to smile at me. Mia staying late at his studio. Mia letting him get too close."Stop it," I muttered, pouring myself a drink. This was purely professional concern. Nothing more. Mia was my wife. On paper, at least. I had a right to know about he
Mia's POV Linda entered. "Mrs. Branson called. She wants both of you home for dinner tonight." My mother-in-law was the only person who treated our marriage as real, who saw me as more than Kyle's convenient arrangement. Kyle's jaw tightened. "Tell her we're busy." "I already tried, sir," Linda replied, "She insisted. Said, and I quote, 'Tell my stubborn son that if he doesn't bring my lovely daughter-in-law home for dinner tonight, I'll come to his office myself.'" "Fine. We'll go." Kyle said. The drive to the Branson mansion was silent. I watched the familiar neighborhoods pass by, each getting progressively more exclusive until we reached the tree-lined street where Kyle had grown up. The mansion stood proud and elegant, its windows warmly lit against the darkening sky. Catherine was waiting at the door, her silver hair perfectly styled, her emerald dress matching her eyes. "Finally!" She exclaimed, "My darlings!" She embraced me first, holding me tight. Her familiar
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