**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 POV"She's your what?" Daniel's voice cut through my thoughts, disbelief evident in every syllable."My wife." Kyle's voice was ice cold, the same tone he used when closing million-dollar deals. "She is my wife."My fingers tightened around the coffee cup. The irony made my chest ache.Daniel's eyes found mine, filled with concern. "If you're experiencing threats or violence," he said softly, leaning closer, "I can help you, beautiful lady.""Don't," Kyle's voice dropped dangerously low, "say that to my wife."I saw his jaw tighten, that subtle tell I'd learned to recognize over years of watching him from a distance. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple - something so uncharacteristic it made me blink. Kyle Branson didn't sweat. Kyle Branson was always perfect, always controlled.A bitter laugh threatened to escape my throat. Of course Daniel would think that. We didn't look like a couple. We looked exactly like what we were - a business arrangement gone wrong. A contract marr
**Mia's POV**I spent the whole night thinking nonsense, so I didn't sleep well.A soft whimper from Gas drew my attention. He lay curled in his bed by the window, paws twitching as he chased dream rabbits. I envy Gas. He always gets a good night's sleep.My phone screen illuminated softly. It is 6:17 AM now. The date glowed also, October 15th. My "old" wedding anniversary. For the first three years, I always prepared for this day in advance. People can adapt easily. I almost forgot this day.To be honest, I had hoped that after the divorce, Kyle would disappear from my life completely. That I could never have to think about this man again. But I had underestimated things. Would Kyle give up my babies? And there was the kidnapping thing. Should I tell Kyle?Sometimes I feel so sad that Kyle and I met so early in life. I was so hopelessly in love with him years after. It seemed like our lives were so intertwined. But, sadly, we were still unable to find happiness.There were some thing
Mia's POVI listen to my mother's phone conversation with her lawyer. I can tell she truly wants to send her ex-husband to prison. I sit on the sofa and try to find a comfortable position, as my belly is getting bigger and bigger. Gas lies at my feet.“Yes, I understand the implications,” Mom's voice came from the kitchen, her usual shrill tone when she was dealing with legal matters. ”But I need the records from 1995 to 2000. All of them.”Gas nudged my ankle with his nose, placed his favorite rope toy on my lap, and his eyes filled with hope. I smiled and picked up the worn-out piece of string. Our games had become more gentle since I became pregnant. Gas had made his compromises for me.“Be careful, Mommy,” I murmured as we played a modified version of catch, throwing the toy very close. Gas ran over happily.I picked up the stack of papers Mom had left on the coffee table: bank statements, property records. Mom had really done her work.I flipped to “James Young Investigation,” th
*Mia's POV*I decided to take a nap, but then I suddenly realized something. Kyle didn't say anything about Taylor bumping into me yesterday. It was almost the first time he had ignored Taylor. With second thought. Of course he hadn't mentioned Taylor. He no longer saw Taylor as the girl. Naturally, he wasn't interested in Taylor anymore. He now knew that I was the girl.It seemed like I had finally defeated Taylor. I'd finally "won." But the thought didn't make me feel happy at all. Kyle's love had become something cheap, as it wasn't love at all."Nate?" My voice sounded small in the quiet car. "Have you ever been in love?"He glanced at me briefly. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. I don't know why but I thought he must have felt that I was stupid.But he still answered, ‘Yes.” The word held weight, like stones dropping into still water."What was it like?" I pressed. "How did you know it was real?"His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "You're really aski
*Mia's POV*The café was exactly halfway between our old house and my new apartment. Neutral territory, my lawyer had called it when suggesting the location. Through the window, I could already see Kyle at a corner table, looking impeccable as always in one of his perfectly tailored suits. He was early.My phone buzzed with a message from Robert: *Remember, you're not obligated to agree to anything today. This is just a preliminary discussion.*I took a deep breath, smoothing my sweater over my clearly visible bump. No point trying to hide it now—my pregnant status was splashed across every gossip site and society blog in the city. The headlines ranged from sympathetic ("Pregnant Ex-Wife of Business Tycoon Targeted in Shocking Attack") to scandalous ("Kyle Branson's Secret Love Child Drama").Kyle stood as I approached, something flickering in his eyes as they dropped to my stomach. For a moment, neither of us spoke."You're looking well," he said finally, his voice carefully neutral.
*Mia's POV*The banging continued, each thud making my heart race faster. My father's voice carried through the door, that familiar entitled tone that had terrorized my teenage years: "Mia Williams, open this door immediately!"I caught Mom's eye across the room. Her face had gone hard. After my mother regained consciousness, she never saw my father again. I don't know what my mother's feelings were like. I know that she, too, once prayed for her husband's love, just like I did. But my father was clearly a complete user. He may even have tried to kill her to get her property."Stay seated," she told me firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "Your ankle needs rest.""I'll handle this," Mom said, her chin lifting as she moved toward the door with surprising grace despite her own injured ankle. Scarlett squeezed my hand.Mom opened the door just enough to reveal my father's imposing figure. He stood there in one of his expensive suits, designer briefcase in hand, looking every inch the
Mia's POVMorning brought a fresh wave of chaos. Scarlett arrived like a hurricane at 7 AM, somehow having convinced the police officer to let her in. She burst into my bedroom, still wearing what looked like resort clothes, her face bare of makeup and creased with worry."Oh my god!" She flung herself onto my bed, barely missing Gas, who scrambled away with an indignant huff. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw the news! Are you okay? Let me see your ankle. Did they get that bitch in jail? I swear to god, Mia, if you ever keep something like this from me again—""Scarlett," I managed, sitting up groggily. "Breathe.""Breathe? BREATHE?" She pulled back to glare at me. "My best friend almost gets murdered and you want me to breathe?""Yes, because you're going to hyperventilate." I grabbed her flailing hands. "I'm okay. Really. Just a sprained ankle and some bruises."She studied my face intently, as if looking for hidden damage. Finally, her shoulders slumped. "I was so scared," s
Mia's POVI stared at the message, my mind racing. There were only two options: reply or ignore. Either way, Kyle would eventually confront me about the twins. The question was whether I wanted that confrontation on my terms or his.I need to call Robert. If Kyle's going to push for custody, I need to be prepared.I thought for a moment, then typed: *Not tonight, Kyle. I need rest. We can talk tomorrow.*His response came instantly: *Are you alright?*The simple question caught me off guard. Was it concern for me, or for his unborn children? I hesitated and decided not to reply.Three dots appeared, disappeared.Nate cleared his throat. "You should try to sleep. Both of you." He glanced between Mom and me. "Will you be okay if I leave? I can stay if you're concerned about security.""The police officer is outside," Mom reminded him. "And Gas is better than any security system."At the sound of his name, Gas's tail thumped against the couch cushions."Besides," I added, "you've already
Mia's POVThe journalists wanted to eat me.Martinez frowned. "We can take you in through the service entrance.""I'll handle them," Nate said firmly. "You focus on getting Mia inside safely."He stepped out first, Gas at his heels. The reporters descended immediately, microphones extended, questions overlapping:"Sir, what's your connection to Mia Williams?""Is it true Taylor Matthews attempted murder?""Dr. Pierce, are you and Ms. Williams romantically involved?"Martinez held up his hands, his posture straight and commanding. "Ms. Williams has no comment at this time. She's been through a traumatic experience and asks for privacy as she recovers."His authoritative tone made several reporters step back. Gas positioned himself protectively between the cameras and the car door as Martinez helped me out. The flashes were blinding, making me stumble slightly."Ms. Williams! Is it true you're pregnant?"The question hit like ice water. I froze."No questions," Martinez said firmly, shi
**Mia's POV**Officer Martinez guided me back toward the squad car. I glanced back at our apartment building."Don't you want to spare her worry?" Officer Martinez asked, following my gaze. Her badge caught the afternoon sunlight as she shifted, the name "Martinez" gleaming against the metal."Yeah. She's still recovering. She doesn't need this kind of stress right now." A strange calm settled over me. After everything that had happened.I felt almost detached. Martinez nodded. "We'll need you to come to the station and make a formal statement. The paramedics can examine you more thoroughly there.""Okay." We reached the patrol car. Taylor was already secured in the back of another vehicle. Martinez followed my gaze. "We'll charge her with attempted murder, and possibly other offenses, pending our review of the surveillance footage. The prosecutor will determine the final charges." She helped me toward the passenger side door. "Do you have a lawyer?""Yes. I'll call them from the sta