**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 rig
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
**Kyle's POV**The memories come unbidden in the darkness of my bedroom, rising like ghosts from the depths of my mind. I close my eyes, and suddenly I'm seven years old again, standing in my father's study with its imposing mahogany walls and the perpetual scent of cigars that always made my throat tight."Remember, Kyle." Father's voice echoes across time, as cold and precise as the cut crystal tumbler in his hand. "In this world, your existence is meaningless unless you prove yourself worthy of the Branson name."I remember how tall his leather chair seemed, how the evening light through the window cast his shadow long across the Persian carpet. How I'd stand there, spine straight despite my trembling, as he assessed me with those steel-grey eyes I'd inherited. He'd tapped the report card with one manicured finger. "Second is not acceptable. Bransons don't come second.""I tried my best, Father." My voice had been small, though I'd struggled to keep it steady. A Branson never show
**Mia's POV**The morning light filtered through the bay windows of my bedroom, casting rainbow prisms across the polished wood of my vanity. I stared at the small army of pill bottles that had appeared there sometime during the night, arranged in neat, clinical rows. Blues, whites, pale pinks, and soft yellows – a rainbow arsenal of chemical intervention.My fingers traced the edge of the nearest bottle. The label bore some long, unpronounceable name, followed by precise instructions in stark black text. Behind it stood at least a dozen more, each with its own schedule, its own promises of healing.This must have emptied an entire pharmacy. Mrs. Chen had arranged my morning pills in a small crystal dish – the kind usually reserved for expensive chocolates or delicate petit fours. A knock at the door startled me from my reverie. Three sharp raps – precise, measured. I glanced at the elegant Cartier clock on my nightstand. 9:47 AM. Too early for Kyle to be home. He should be at K.T.
**Mia's POV**The deliveries started at dawn.First came the Italian silk bedsheets, their fabric so fine it felt like water running through my fingers. The deep purple shade reminded me of twilight skies, of quiet moments I used to spend sketching on the balcony. A small card accompanied them, printed in nice handwriting: "For better sleep."By ten, a collection of organic bath products had appeared – lavender-infused soaps from Provence, hand-blended essential oils, bath salts from the Dead Sea. Another card: "For relaxation."Noon brought aromatherapy candles, each one hand-poured in crystal vessels that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. The scents were carefully chosen – chamomile, vanilla, sandalwood. A third card: "For peace of mind."I stood in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by Kyle's latest attempts at... what? Apology? Compensation? Control wrapped in cashmere and silk?"Mrs. Branson?" Mrs. Chen appeared in the doorway, her arms full of yet another pac
**Kyle's POV**I heard the crash of breaking glass followed by Mia's cry, sharp with fear. Something in her voice made my blood run cold. Not her usual quiet distress, but raw panic.My feet were moving before conscious thought kicked in. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached her room just as another cry echoed through the darkness."Help! Somebody help!"The sight that greeted me stopped my heart. Mia was on the floor, surrounded by glittering shards of what must have been the crystal vase from her nightstand. Blood seeped from her foot where she'd stepped on broken glass, but it was her face that caught me—the unfocused eyes, the desperate way her hands reached out into empty air."Mia?" I moved carefully through the glass. "What happened?""I can't—" Her voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't see. I can't see...anything."In twenty years of running K.T. Enterprises, through mergers and crises and billion-dollar deals, I'd never felt anything like this primal fe
**Mia's POV**My laptop screen glowed softly in the fading afternoon light as I opened the group chat. Three faces appeared in their respective windows – Scarlett's fiery red hair unmistakable even in the small frame, Jeo's familiar warm smile, and my own tired reflection staring back at me."There she is!" Scarlett's voice crackled through my speakers. "Our brilliant architect finally graces us with her presence.""Sorry I'm late," I said, adjusting my screen. "I was reviewing the latest site surveys.""Speaking of which," Jeo held up a stack of papers, "I have some thoughts about the therapeutic garden layouts. The integration with existing vegetation is inspired, Mia, but have you considered adding a butterfly garden? The kids would love it.""That's... actually brilliant." I reached for my sketchpad, already visualizing the possibilities. "We could create a dedicated space near the sensory garden, using native plants to attract local species.""And," Scarlett chimed in, "I've been
**Mia's POV**The hospital corridors had become familiar territory over the past four days. Every morning, I'd arrive just as the sun began to paint the city skyline in shades of gold and pink. The nurses on the early shift knew me by name now, greeting me with gentle smiles as I made my way to Mom's room.Today was no different. Emma, the head nurse, looked up from her station with a warm smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Branson. Your mother had a peaceful night.""Any changes?" I asked, the question as automatic as breathing by now."All her indicators are holding steady." Emma's smile widened slightly. "Dr. Pierce just went in to check on her, actually."I found Nate standing by Mom's bed, studying her charts with intense concentration. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually immaculate appearance showed subtle signs of wear - his sleeves rolled up carelessly, his collar slightly askew."Nate?" He looked up, his professional mask softening into a genuine smile. "Mia. I was hopin
Mia's POVConsciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through deep water. The first thing I noticed was the steady beeping of monitors—not my own, I realized, but from the bed next to mine."What happened?" I asked, my voice rough from sleep.A nurse appeared at my side, adjusting something on the monitor. "You fainted, dear. The stress and exhaustion finally caught up with you."I pushed myself up carefully, my head spinning slightly. "How long was I out?""Just a couple of hours." She helped arrange my pillows. "Dr. Pierce said it was pure exhaustion. When was the last time you ate anything?"I tried to remember but couldn't. The nurse clicked her tongue disapprovingly."That's what I thought. You need to rest and eat something substantial." She checked my vitals with efficient movements. "Your mother's doing very well, by the way. The surgery was completely successful."At the mention of Mom, I turned to study her in the next bed. She lay peaceful in the post-surgical quiet, he
Mia's POVThe hospital corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, its polished floors reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. I watched as they wheeled Mom through the double doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only," her small form dwarfed by the hospital bed. My fingers pressed against the cold glass of the observation window until she disappeared from view."Mrs. Branson?" A gentle touch on my arm made me turn. The nurse—her name tag read "Emma"—smiled warmly. "Why don't we get you settled in the waiting area? It's going to be a long surgery."I let her guide me to a private waiting room, noticing absently that it was far more luxurious than the standard hospital spaces. Plush chairs, soft lighting."Can I get you anything?" Emma asked. "Some hot chocolate perhaps? Or juice?""No, thank you." My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears.She frowned slightly. "You should try to eat something. Dr. Pierce mentioned you might skip breakfast. Let me at least bring you some tea."Before I c
**Mia's POV**The elevator doors opened to reveal a corridor that looked nothing like the sterile hospital hallways below. Rich mahogany paneling lined the walls, and original artwork hung in carefully curated groupings. My heels sank into plush carpeting as I made my way to Nate's office, my portfolio clutched like a shield against my chest.I paused before the heavy double doors, taking a steadying breath. Through the frosted glass, I could see movement - a tall figure pacing, gesturing as he spoke on the phone.Before I could knock, the door swung open. Nate stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, but his face lit up when he saw me. He gestured me in, mouthing "Just a moment" as he wrapped up his call."No, tell them Thursday won't work," he said, his voice carrying that easy authority I was beginning to recognize. "The equipment needs to be calibrated by someone who actually knows what they're doing, not just the lowest bidder." He paused, listening. "Exactly. Have Dr. Chen h
**Mia's POV**The morning sun had barely risen when I settled at my desk, spreading out the preliminary sketches for the children's center. Steam rose from my coffee cup, curling in the early light as I reviewed my notes from yesterday.My phone rang, Scarlett's name flashing across the screen."That bastard actually agreed to the divorce?" Scarlett's voice was surprisingly calm, though I could hear the underlying tension."After my mother's surgery is complete," I said, reaching for my coffee. "He didn't even argue. Just said he'd have the papers drawn up.""Just like that? No conditions? No threats about the contract?""Nothing." I moved a sketch aside, focusing on the garden layout. "He just... agreed.""Well, that's... unexpected." A pause, then I heard rustling papers on her end. "Listen, I'm looking at my schedule. I can get you in to see Marcus - you remember my lawyer friend? - this afternoon.""Scarlett—""No, hear me out. He specializes in high-profile divorces. Knows exactl
**Mia's POV**Time seemed to slow in that dimly lit kitchen as Kyle's weight pressed against me, the sharp scent of scotch mingling with his familiar cologne. His head rested heavy on my shoulder, dark hair tickling my neck as his breathing steadied."Kyle," I said softly, trying to shift his weight. "We need to get you upstairs."He stirred, lifting his head to look at me with unfocused eyes. In the soft glow of the kitchen lights, his usual sharp features had softened, making him look younger, almost vulnerable."Your eyes," he murmured, reaching up to trace my cheekbone with unsteady fingers. "So green. Like emeralds in sunlight." A crooked smile crossed his face. "Always loved your eyes."My heart clenched painfully. "Stop it." I caught his hand, pulling it away from my face. "You're drunk.""Mmm, maybe." He chuckled, the sound so unlike his usual controlled demeanor that it made my chest ache. "But I still know pretty eyes when I see them.""Kyle, please—""Stay." His fingers cur
**Mia's POV** The soft glow of my laptop screen illuminated the study as I immersed myself in the children's center project details Nate had sent. Five acres of possibility spread across my screen. Nature had already gifted us with mature oak trees standing like ancient guardians around the perimeter, their sprawling canopies offering the perfect foundation for what these children would need most: a sense of shelter without confinement, protection without isolation. The site's southern exposure was perfect, which means we could capture natural light throughout the day, letting sunshine become a healing element in itself. The existing topography practically begged for terraced healing gardens, creating intimate spaces that would feel both private and connected to the larger landscape. My pencil moved across the sketchpad as I explored possibilities for the central courtyard. The notification appeared in the corner of my screen with a soft chime. I almost ignored it, but the familiar