The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 164

Mia's POV

"Don't react," I tell myself, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Don't give them what they want."

But I can't stop scrolling. It's like watching a car crash—horrifying, but impossible to look away from. Every news site, every gossip blog, every social media platform seems to be exploding with "breaking news" about the scandalous gold-digger who trapped billionaire CEO Kyle Branson with a pregnancy.

Me.

The New York Times article is predictably more restrained than the tabloids, presenting "allegations" and "sources close to the family" rather than outright character assassination. Still, the implications are clear: I manipulated my way into Kyle's life, used my position as his secretary to seduce him, orchestrated a pregnancy to secure my financial future, and am now engaged in a bitter custody battle while carrying his children.

The headline stares back at me: "Branson Billions Battle: The Secretary, The Scandal, and the Surrogate Mother Claims."

Surrogate mother claims? I want to laugh, but the sound that comes out is more like a strangled sob. According to "anonymous sources," I was never really married to Kyle, just a convenient stand-in when he needed to clean up his image. Our marriage was a sham, the pregnancy a business arrangement. The twins I'm carrying aren't even mine—I'm just the vessel, carrying them for Kyle and his true love, my stepsister Taylor.

The twins kick sharply, as if protesting this ridiculous narrative. Smart boys, see?

The story painted across these articles is so twisted, so far from reality, that it would be laughable if it weren't so damaging. If it weren't being consumed by thousands—maybe millions—of people who will never hear my side.

My phone buzzes again. Another unknown number. I've already received calls from three different news outlets in the past hour alone. I silence it without answering, my hand shaking slightly.

"Mia?" Mom appears in the doorway, her expression a mixture of concern and barely contained fury. "Have you seen what they're saying?"

"I've seen." I close my laptop, unable to stomach any more. "Taylor's PR team has been busy."

Mom crosses the room to sit beside me, her movements controlled and precise in a way that tells me she's holding back rage. "Robert's already on it. He's preparing cease and desist letters for the most egregious articles."

"It won't help." I lean back against the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted. "The damage is done. People believe what they want to believe."

"We're not letting them get away with this," Mom says, her voice steel. "This is defamation, clear and simple."

I kept thinking about Nate's strange call yet. That conversation had left me unsettled enough, and now this media onslaught feels like part of a coordinated attack. What had Nate been trying to warn me about? Was this it?

"I'll take a car service. I'll be sitting the entire time. I'll even bring a pillow for my back." I'm already moving toward my bedroom to change out of my lounge clothes. "I need to talk to Kyle face-to-face."

"This is exactly what they want," Mom calls after me. "To provoke you into doing something rash. You're playing right into their hands."

She's probably right, but I'm beyond caring. The twins shift restlessly as I pull on a stretchy black maternity dress and a cardigan, as if they too can sense my agitation.

"I'll be fine," I assure them, rubbing my belly. "We're just going to have a quick conversation with your father."

Back in the living room, Mom stands with her arms crossed, clearly preparing for another round of objections. I speak before she can start.

"I'm going. You can either help me arrange safe transportation, or I can call a rideshare myself." I meet her gaze steadily. "Your choice."

I probably shouldn't have spoken to my mother like that, but I'm really fed up.