Mia's POVTime lost all meaning as I waited in the darkened house. Shadows crept across the walls, each hour stretching into eternity. Kyle would have to come back eventually. We could go to John's clinic together. One simple examination would prove I was telling the truth. The babies were his. He will believe me.The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight, its deep resonance oddly threatening in the empty house. Each stroke felt like a hammer to my already pounding head.My eyes grew heavy as exhaustion crept in. The emotional toll of the day weighed on me like lead, pulling me toward unconsciousness. The babies needed rest. Just a few minutes...The sharp click of heels on hardwood jolted me awake.The foyer light snapped on, momentarily blinding me. When my vision cleared, I saw her standing there, a vision in red, perfectly coiffed even at this hour. "Look what we have here. The perfect little wife, caught in her own web of lies." Taylor's voice dripped honey-coated pois
Mia's POVThe world spun as I lay at the bottom of the stairs, pain radiating through my body in merciless waves. Taylor's performance began with a single, perfectly timed tear."Kyle!" Taylor's voice cracked with carefully crafted desperation. "You're here!" Her hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself, a picture of vulnerability.Kyle's eyes darted between us, taking in the scene—me on the floor, Taylor's apparent distress. The muscle in his jaw ticked, a sure sign of his rising anger.Taylor's lower lip quivered. "I—I just wanted to talk to her." Her voice hitched perfectly. "After everything that's happened, I thought maybe... maybe we could fix things. We're family, after all." She pressed a manicured hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob. "But she was so angry, Kyle. ""No," I gasped, "She's lying—""I told her about us," Taylor continued. "About how we've been trying to resist our feelings, trying to do the right thing. I thought if she understood... if she knew how
Mia's POVIn the haze between consciousness and darkness, memories floated like scattered photographs, each one more painful than the last. The sedatives coursing through my veins turned my mind into a kaleidoscope of moments I'd tried so hard to forget."Mr. Branson will see you now."The first time I saw Kyle in his office, tall and imposing behind that mahogany desk. I'd straightened my simple black dress, trying to look professional despite my racing heart. He hadn't recognized me from high school, of course. To him, I was just another candidate for the secretary position."Your references are impressive, Miss Williams."His voice had been cold even then, clinical. I should have known. Should have seen the signs.The scene shifted, blurred, reformed."The board needs me married." Kyle's voice echoed through my drug-induced dreams. "Someone quiet. Someone who won't cause problems." The contract had sat between us on his desk, stark black text on white paper. A business arrangement,
Mia's POVThe hospital room is too quiet. Too white. Too empty.Just like me now.The morning light hurts my eyes. I keep my hand on my stomach. There's nothing there anymore. No movement. No life. Just emptiness.When the door opens, I know it's Kyle. I always know. Even now, my heart still responds to his presence. I hate that it does."You should be resting," he says. His footsteps are measured, controlled. Everything about Kyle is always controlled.I turn my head slowly. He looks perfect. Not a hair out of place. Like nothing has happened. Like our babies aren't gone."How's Taylor?" I ask. I can't help it. I need to know if he spent the night with her while I was losing our children.His jaw tightens. "She's fine. Some bruising."Of course she is. Taylor always lands on her feet. While I lose everything."The doctors say you need rest," he continues, checking his phone. Always checking his phone. "I've arranged for the best specialists—""I want a divorce."The words hang in the
Kyle's POV The scotch burns a path down my throat. Glass after glass. The bottle's nearly empty now, but the anger still burns hotter than the alcohol. Divorce. The word echoes in my mind, mocking my control. How dare she? After everything I've given her—the lifestyle, the security, the position—she dares to ask for a divorce? My office is too quiet. Too dark. The city lights spread out below my penthouse window, a sea of possibilities I've always controlled. Until now. I pour another glass. My hand is steady, even if my thoughts aren't. "Is everything a game to you, Mia?" The words taste bitter in the empty room. "Didn't you say you loved me?" The memory of her in that hospital bed flashes unbidden. Pale. Broken. Different from the Mia I know. The Mia who always smiled, no matter how cold I was. The Mia who looked at me like I was worth something more than my bank account. My phone buzzes. Taylor. Again. I stare at her name on the screen until it goes dark. Strange.
Mia's POVMy palm stung from the force of the slap, but the pain was nothing compared to the turmoil in my chest. Kyle's kiss still burned on my lips, a ghost of passion that meant nothing. That had always meant nothing. The taste of expensive scotch lingered on my tongue, bitter like the memories we'd shared."Don't touch me again." My voice came out steadier than I felt, ice coating each word. Inside, my traitorous heart still raced from his proximity, from the familiar scent of his cologne, from the way his body had pressed against mine. Old habits die hard, it seems. "I'm not your toy anymore, Kyle."His fingers touched his reddened cheek, storm clouds gathering in those grey eyes I'd once found so captivating. The slight tick in his jaw betrayed his anger . I knew all his tells by now, every minute expression that revealed the emotions he tried so hard to hide."You're being ridiculous," he growled, taking a step toward me. "This tantrum needs to stop."I backed away, my legs hit
Mia's POV"I brought your favorite flowers today, Mom." My voice echoed in the sterile hospital room as I arranged fresh lilies in the vase. "The florist said they just got them in this morning. Remember how you used to grow them in our garden? Before..."I trailed off, settling into the chair beside her bed. The monitors beeped steadily, their rhythm a poor substitute for her voice."The doctors say you can hear me," I continued, taking her hand. "I hope that's true because I need to tell you something. I need to tell you how sorry I am."My thumb traced patterns on her palm, the way she used to do when I was little. "I failed you, Mom. Everything you warned me about, everything you tried to protect me from – I walked right into it anyway.""I know I have told you a lot of times. Mom, you're the only one I can talk to about this. I married him, Mom. I married a man who doesn't love me. Just like you and Dad." My voice cracked. "I thought I could change him. Isn't that ridiculous? I w
Mia's POVMy hands trembled as I reached for my bag, fingers brushing against the manila envelope inside. The divorce papers felt heavy, weighted with more than just legal terms and conditions. They represented freedom – or at least, they should have."I've made my decision," I said quietly, pulling out the envelope. The hospital room seemed to shrink around us, the air growing thick with tension.Kyle's eyes fixed on the envelope, his jaw tightening. "What is that?""You know what it is." I held the papers out, my voice steadier than I felt. "I've already signed them."His laugh was harsh, echoing off the sterile walls. "You can't be serious.""I've never been more serious." I stepped closer, forcing him to take the envelope. "It's over, Kyle. Whatever this was between us – the contract, the pretense, all of it. It's done."Kyle's fingers closed around the envelope, but instead of opening it, he moved to the window. The setting sun cast his profile in sharp relief, highlighting the t
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
Mia's POV"Are you all right, sir?" he asked the startled patient, a frail-looking man with thinning white hair."Yes, yes," the man muttered, clearly embarrassed. "These confounded wheels... they just got away from me."A nurse hurried up, flushed and apologetic. "Mr. Bartlett! I'm so sorry—I just stepped away for a moment to get your discharge papers.""No harm done, thanks to this young man," Mr. Bartlett said, gesturing to Kyle.The nurse took control of the wheelchair, thanking Kyle profusely before wheeling Mr. Bartlett away, gently admonishing him about the wheelchair brakes as they went.And then it was just Kyle and me, standing in the middle of the hospital corridor, staring at each other."What are you doing here?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.Kyle's expression shifted from concern to irritation in an instant. "Saving you from getting run down by a wheelchair, apparently." His eyes moved to my belly, his frown deepening. "What were you thinking, walking t
Mia's POVThe conference room in the District Attorney's office felt colder than it should have. I adjusted my cardigan, pulling it tighter around my expanding belly as I listened to Assistant District Attorney Ramirez lay out the case against my father and Helen."The financial trail is quite extensive," Ramirez explained, clicking through slides of complex diagrams on his presentation. "We've tracked funds being siphoned from Sarah Williams' accounts through a series of shell companies before ultimately disappearing into offshore holdings in the Cayman Islands and Belize."I studied the web of arrows connecting various company names, trying to make sense of it all. Red Box Holdings LLC. Maritime Ventures Group. Sunward Capital Limited. All meaningless names designed to hide the theft of my mother's fortune.Ramirez adjusted his glasses. "They were actually quite sophisticated about it. Small amounts moved over extended periods, transactions timed to coincide with market fluctuations
Mia's POVThe twins were already awake, their movements gentle but persistent beneath my ribs. "Good morning to you two," I murmured.The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen. The real coffee, not the decaf I'd been restricted to. That meant mom was up. I carefully pushed myself to sitting. Gas immediately perked up, his tail thumping against the mattress as he watched me with adoration."Yes, we're getting up," I told him, scratching behind his ears. "Wanna play?"I slipped on my robe and made my way to the kitchen, Gas trotting faithfully at my heels. Mom stood at the counter, butter knife in hand, spreading something on toast. She looked up at my entrance, her face lighting with a smile that still caught me off guard sometimes. To have her back in my life."There you are," she said. "I was wondering if jet lag would keep you in bed all day.""The smell of breakfast was too tempting," I replied, easing myself onto a kitchen stool.Mom slid a plate of toast in front of me. whole g
Kyle's POVThe amber liquid in my glass caught the light as I swirled it, watching the way it clung to the crystal before settling. Macallan 25, a formidable scotch with notes of dried fruits and oak. I took another measured sip."She's back, you know."I looked up to find Morton watching me. My longtime business partner, occasional adversary, and perhaps the closest thing I had to a genuine friend. Currently, he was leaning back in his leather chair, nursing his own scotch.We were seated in the private lounge of The Metropolitan Club, where generations of New York's financial elite had conducted their affairs away from public scrutiny. The oak-paneled walls, leather furnishings, and discreet staff created an atmosphere of exclusivity that had always suited my preference for privacy."I'm aware," I replied, keeping my tone neutral despite the way my pulse had quickened at the mere allusion to Mia.Morton raised an eyebrow. "And?""And nothing." I set my glass down with precise contro
Mia's POVI sleep for several hours on the flight, waking only when the lunch service began."Feeling okay?" Scarlett asked, returning from a brief visit to the front of the cabin where Thomas was working on his laptop."Better than expected," I admitted. "Thank you and your husband for the first-class cabin."“That's what he should do, otherwise I won't marry him,” Scarlett said, pointing at her ring.I nodded, ”Very convincing.”"Not much longer," she assured me, checking her watch. "About two hours until we land."As if on cue, my phone buzzed with an incoming email. The airplane's Wi-Fi allowing me to stay connected despite being somewhere over the Atlantic. It was from my lawyer:Mia,Update on the situation with Taylor Matthews. She has been released on bail but with significant restrictions—surrender of passport, ankle monitor, no contact orders for you and your mother. Her attorney is positioning this as a misunderstanding, claiming she was an unwitting teenager manipulated by
Mia's POVI text Scarlett that I'm done with work. She responds quickly.Great! Lunch at that little place with the amazing onion soup? Last chance for authentic French cuisine before returning to land of bagels and pizza.Sounds perfect, I replied, smiling at her priorities.Back in my suite, I found most of my belongings already neatly packed, the hotel staff having worked their magic while I was at my meeting. Only a small suitcase remained open for last-minute items and tomorrow's travel outfit.I carefully placed the sketchbook from Bernard in my carry-on, along with my tablet and the few other items I'd need for the flight. The job offer letter and contract were safely tucked into a folder, ready for my lawyer to review upon our return to New York.A knock at my door announced Scarlett's arrival. She swept in wearing a chic travel outfit that somehow looked both comfortable and runway-ready."There you are!" she exclaimed. "Tell me everything about the meeting. What projects wil
Mia's POVI stared at the message. I took a screenshot and forwarded it to my lawyer with a brief message:Received this just now from unknown number. Likely Taylor or associate. Please document for potential restraining order.Then I blocked the number, set my phone aside, and crawled into bed.I sat on the bed, thinking about the moment Taylor sent this message. Although I'm not 100% sure it's her. But undoubtedly, she is the likeliest person. Threatening and manipulating are her favorite tricks. The only difference is that I'm no longer afraid. I figured something out. I don't need Taylor to realize that she's done wrong. I don't need her to apologize. I just need to make the people who hurt me pay the price they deserve. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.I need to sleep. Tomorrow, after discussing work with Bernard Leblanc, I can go home. Although I have only been gone for less than two weeks, I miss my mother and Gas. A lot.I close my eyes, letting the city's magic seep in
Mia's POVKyle has spared no effort to show his generosity.I downloaded the attached documents, giving them a quick review. I sent a brief acknowledgment:Kyle,Thank you for the documents. I'll review them with my attorney when we return to New York and get back to you with any questions or concerns.MiaI kept my professionalism. I wanted to teach Kyle about boundaries. He wanted to spill the money, but I still wanted to maintain my dignity.With my inbox cleared, I turned my attention to preparing for our last night in Paris. Scarlett had left a garment bag hanging on my closet door with a note attached: "Wear this tonight. Trust me."Inside was a beautiful emerald green dress I'd admired during our shopping expedition but had deemed too extravagant. The cut was perfect for my pregnancy—elegant without trying to hide my bump, comfortable without looking matronly.Another note fluttered from the fabric: "Consider it an early push present. From your eternally stylish best friend who