**Mia's POV**The silence in the room shattered at Kyle's words. My father's face drained of color as he stared at Kyle's hand gripping his wrist, recognition slowly dawning in his eyes."Kyle... Kyle Branson?" Dad's voice wavered, all his previous authority crumbling. The name carried weight - everyone in the business world knew what crossing a Branson meant."Mr. Hawthorne." Kyle's voice remained perfectly controlled, but ice cold. "I suggest you lower your hand. Now."Dad jerked away as if burned, his eyes darting between Kyle and me. "What are you doing here? This is a family—""Mia is my wife."The words fell like bombs in the elegant living room. I watched the impact ripple across their faces - Dad's jaw going slack, my stepmother's perfectly arranged features freezing in shock, Taylor's eyes widening in genuine surprise for once."Wife?" Dad choked out. "That's impossible. She's been—""We've been married for three years." Kyle's tone left no room for argument. His stance was pr
**Mia's POV**The morning sun filtered through the guest room's bay windows, casting long shadows across my makeshift studio. Drawings covered every surface – elevation plans pinned to walls, material samples scattered across tables, 3D renderings glowing on multiple screens. The organized chaos felt right, felt like coming home to a part of myself I'd almost forgotten."Mrs. Branson?" Mrs. Chen's soft knock interrupted my concentration. "Your morning tea."She entered carrying a silver tray, navigating carefully around stacks of blueprints. Jasmine steam curled in the air, a small attempt at comfort in this too-quiet house."Thank you, Mrs. Chen," I murmured, not looking up from the detail I was sketching – an intricate pattern for the atrium's skylight. "You can just leave it anywhere.""Three days," she said, arranging a plate of small sandwiches beside the tea. "Three days you've barely left this room. Barely eaten.""I've eaten," I protested, but even I could hear how weak it soun
**Mia's POV**The peaceful afternoon silence shattered with the sound of the front door being thrown open, followed by the sharp click of designer heels on marble flooring. Outside, I could hear the purr of a Bentley engine fading away – Catherine never drove herself when she was angry."Mrs. Chen!" The commanding voice echoed through the foyer. "Where is my son?"I looked up from my design sketches, the detailed renderings of the Havers project's east wing forgotten as Catherine's voice carried upstairs. Through my open door, I could hear Mrs. Chen's hurried footsteps on the grand staircase."Mrs. Branson Senior," Mrs. Chen's usually composed voice held a note of anxiety. "Mr. Branson is at the office—""At the office?" Catherine's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Call him," Catherine commanded. "Tell him to come home immediately. And I mean immediately, not after whatever 'meeting' he claims to be in."I set aside my work, smoothing my simple grey sweater dress as I made my way downstair
**Mia's POV**The foyer felt too small, too warm in the wake of Catherine's departure. The lingering scent of her herbs mixed with the familiar notes of Kyle's cologne, creating something heady and strange in the air between us. Kyle stood perfectly still, his usual impeccable appearance slightly disrupted – tie loosened, emerald nail mark stark against his white shirt, a flush rising along his cheekbones.I studied the intricate patterns in the marble flooring, tracing the swirls with my eyes. Anything to avoid looking at him directly. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the gentle tick of the grandfather clock and the distant sounds of Mrs. Chen in the kitchen."I should..." My voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar. I cleared my throat, trying again. "I need to shower. Get ready for bed.""Of course." His voice was carefully neutral, practiced. Then, unexpectedly: "Your designs for the Havers project."I looked up despite myself. "What?""They're exceptional." Something flickered i
**Mia's POV**The world had narrowed to sensation - Kyle's lips on mine, his hands tangled in my hair, the heat of Catherine's potion burning through our veins. Each touch felt magnified, electric, as if the herbs had awakened every nerve ending in my body.Moonlight spilled through the bedroom windows, painting silver shadows across Kyle's face as he pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged. His storm-grey eyes were almost black, pupils dilated with desire."Mia," he whispered, my name a prayer and a curse on his lips. His fingers traced the curve of my cheek, down my neck, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Tell me."I couldn't answer. Couldn't trust my voice when his touch was unraveling every carefully constructed defense. Instead, I pulled him back to me, losing myself in the taste of spice and darkness on his tongue.We moved like dancers in a dream, each step bringing us closer to the bed. Kyle's tie had disappeared somewhere along the way, his shirt half-unbuttoned, reve
**Mia's POV**Sleep had been elusive, leaving me tossing and turning in sheets that still held traces of Kyle's cologne. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face in the moonlight, felt the ghost of his touch. Catherine's potion had finally worn off, but the memories remained, sharp and clear in the endless night hours.Dawn found me exhausted, dark circles beneath my eyes that even expensive concealer couldn't quite hide. I pulled on a simple cream sweater and black pants, armor against whatever this day might bring.The sound of clattering pans drew me to the kitchen. I stopped dead in the doorway, certain I must still be dreaming.Kyle Branson - immaculate, perfectionist Kyle - stood at the stove surrounded by chaos. Eggshells littered the counter. A dusting of flour marked his otherwise pristine grey suit. Something that might have been an omelet sizzled ominously in the pan."What are you doing?" The words came out more bewildered than I intended.He looked up, and for a moment
**Kyle's POV**The medical center's waiting room felt too small, too sterile. I watched Mia through the glass partition as nurses took her vitals, drew blood, performed test after test. She looked small in the oversized hospital chair, pale against the stark white walls."Mr. Branson?" John's voice drew my attention. My family's physician for twenty years stood before me, his expression grave as he studied the preliminary results. "Shall we discuss this in my office?"I followed him down the quiet corridor, my footsteps echoing on polished floors."Her physical symptoms are concerning," John began, spreading test results across his desk. "Significant weight loss, irregular sleep patterns, elevated cortisol levels. But I'm more worried about her psychological state."I leaned forward. "Explain.""She's exhibiting classic signs of clinical depression." John removed his glasses, started polishing them with that methodical movement I'd seen since childhood – his tell when delivering diffi
**Mia's POV**The therapy room was nothing like I'd imagined. No leather couch, no walls lined with dusty psychology books. Instead, soft grey walls surrounded comfortable armchairs, and large windows let in natural light filtered through gauzy curtains. Dr. Sarah Matthews sat across from me, her presence calm and grounding."Are you comfortable, Mia?" she asked, adjusting the small device that would guide my eye movements. Her voice carried that perfect blend of professional and compassionate that probably took years to master.I nodded, though 'comfortable' wasn't quite the right word. The armchair embraced me like a cloud, but my nerves jangled with anticipation. Or was it fear?"Remember," she continued, "EMDR therapy helps process traumatic memories by engaging both sides of your brain. Just follow the light with your eyes, and let your thoughts flow naturally. There's no right or wrong way to experience this."The light began moving, a gentle rhythm like a metronome. Left to righ
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
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 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 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 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"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 POV"Ms. Williams?" A nurse hurried after me, waving a clipboard. "You forgot to schedule your next appointment."I sighed, turning back. This pregnancy brain was getting ridiculous. Last week, I'd put my keys in the refrigerator and spent twenty minutes searching the apartment while Gas watched me with what I swore was canine amusement."Sorry about that," I said, accepting the clipboard. "Guess I was distracted by the good news."The nurse smiled sympathetically. "Twins will do that to you. How about two weeks from today? Same time?"I checked my phone calendar. "That works. Thank you."Kyle said nothing, but saw it all.We walked in awkward silence toward the bank of elevators, maintaining a careful distance. Kyle pressed the call button, and we waited, the tension between us almost palpable.The elevator arrived with a soft chime, empty except for us. Kyle held the door as I entered, then followed, pressing the button for the ground floor."How have you been feeling?" he ask