The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 185

Mia's POV

December arrived with its first snow, transforming New York into a landscape of pristine white. I stood at the window, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the frosted glass as I observed the silent descent of snowflakes. My reflection stared back at me, a woman has a belly that had expanded to proportions I once would have deemed impossible.

The cold had settled into the city with unusual vigor this year, mirroring the chill that had descended upon the Branson name. Each day brought fresh allegations against Alexander Branson, each more damning than the last. The media, like vultures circling a wounded animal, released evidence piece by piece, ensuring the scandal remained perpetually fresh in the public consciousness.

"Murder," they called it now. Alexander Branson, murderer of Diane Porter—a truth accepted so readily by a public hungry for the downfall of the wealthy and powerful.

I sighed, my breath creating a momentary fog upon the window.

Diane Porter had been revealed as a distant relative of Taylor's mother's family. How convenient for Taylor. The media embraced her narrative with alarming enthusiasm. The public's memory was short indeed.

I even doubt that she will be found not guilty, even though she almost ran me over with her car three months ago.

I had not heard from Kyle since that brief phone call two weeks ago. Despite I hated his unwanted attentions, I could not rejoice in his current predicament. Something about the precision of the scandal's unfolding struck me as it seemed like a deliberate campaign.

For a moment, I considered contacting Catherine to inquire about Alexander and Diane Porter. But I dismissed the notion almost instantly. What right had I to probe into such painful matters? What purpose would it serve to ask Katherine whether her husband had indeed been a murderer? It was not my burden to carry, nor my mystery to solve.

The sound of movement in the hallway drew my attention. My mother appeared, wrapped in a coat and scarf, clearly preparing to brave the winter weather once more.

"You're going out again?" I inquired, unable to keep a hint of curiosity from my voice.

She paused, adjusting her gloves with meticulous attention. "Just for a short while. I have an appointment."

"Another appointment," I observed, noting the careful application of her makeup, the subtle flush upon her cheeks that owed nothing to cosmetics. "You seem to have many of those lately."

Mother offered me a smile that held secrets. "The case remains complicated, darling. There are many details to attend to."

"Of course," I replied, playing along with her pretense, though I had begun to suspect that her frequent absences had little to do with legal matters. "Will you be long?"

Love was a verb. It seemed, had found her when she least expected it.

I'm curious about who Mom's mysterious date is. I think I'll find out soon.

"Who says love must happen under particular circumstances?" I mused aloud.

Love was really that complicated. I found we all subject to love's irrational persistence.

The sound of the front door opening roused me from my half-slumber. My mother had returned, her voice soft as she greeted Gas, who had abandoned his post at my feet to welcome her. I glanced at the bedside clock—she had been gone barely an hour.

Curious, I listened for any clue as to why her "appointment" had concluded so quickly. Had she been meeting someone nearby? Had her plans changed?

Her footsteps approached my door, which stood slightly ajar. "Mia?" she called softly. "Are you awake?"