The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 193

Mia's POV

A week before Christmas, snow fell gently outside my window. The city sparkled with holiday lights. I should have felt festive. I didn't.

Kyle hadn't called. Not once.

Three weeks since the park incident.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The twins kicked inside me, restless like their mother.

I haven't called him. Why should I? He punched Thomas. Acted like a caveman.

But his absence hurts. I hate that it hurts.

The twins will arrive in January. Where is their father?

I never realized that I would want Kyle to be there when I gave birth.

Scarlett dropped the bomb at dinner yesterday.

"Kyle's in Paris," she said, watching me over her wineglass. "Been there two weeks now. Morton says it's about the Diana Porter scandal."

I pretended not to care. Changed the subject. Kept my face blank.

Kyle in Paris. An ocean away.

I guessed that business were always first.

Why did I expect anything different?

A sharp kick beneath my ribs. Twin A - always the troublemaker.

They're running out of room. Both positioned head down. Ready.

We're waiting.

The irony burns. During our marriage, he was there but not there. Physically present, emotionally gone. Now that we're over, his ghost haunts me constantly.

I think about him at random moments. Is he finding answers in his father's files? What does he think about the Porter scandal headlines? How will he look when he holds his sons?

These thoughts ambush me. I hate them. I should focus on the babies. On my future in Paris. On anything but Kyle Branson.

My phone chimed with a message from Scarlett:

Still on for lunch? Morton wants to join if that's okay. Says he has something to discuss.

I typed back quickly:

Of course. Gas and I could use the company.

Gas lifted his head at the sound of his name, his dark eyes watching me with unwavering devotion. He had become increasingly protective as my pregnancy progressed, rarely leaving my side for more than a few minutes.

"We're having visitors," I told him, scratching behind his ears. "Scarlett and Morton."

The strange evolution of Scarlett's marriage continued to surprise me. What had begun as a business arrangement had somehow blossomed into something genuine. Last week, I'd caught them holding hands under the table during dinner, like teenagers trying to hide their first romance.

I moved to the kitchen to prepare tea, my movements slow and deliberate. The extra weight I carried made every action require conscious thought, transforming simple tasks into exercises in balance and patience.

Mom had left early for what she described as "an appointment," though the sparkle in her eyes and the extra care she'd taken with her appearance suggested something more personal. After everything she'd endured, her cautious steps toward happiness filled me with a complicated mix of joy and wistfulness.

Everyone was moving forward except me. I remained suspended between past and future, unable to fully release the tangled emotions that bound me to Kyle.

The truth dies with me. Tell Mia I'm sorry for everything. —Richard Williams

"This isn't right," I say. "I visited him yesterday. He was making demands. Negotiating. Using information as leverage."

"Inmates often mask depression," he replies mechanically. "The method was typical - bedsheet tied to an air vent. Most suicides happen in single-occupancy cells like your father's."

"No. He threatened people yesterday. Why would he kill himself now?"

The officer's expression changes.

Lieutenant Walsh writes in his notebook. "High-profile inmates often attract... attention. It would be standard procedure to have the security camera footage reviewed."

"And where was the guard when this happened?" I ask.

"Making rounds elsewhere. Staffing is stretched thin. One guard monitors multiple blocks overnight."

"How convenient," I say.

His face hardens. "We'll investigate thoroughly, Ms. Williams. But I should note that prison cameras malfunction regularly. Budget issues."

"You don't believe me."

"I believe you're upset. Grief makes us look for complicated explanations. But prison suicides are common. The evidence points that way."

He leaves his card. Offers condolences. Leaves.

I collapse on the sofa.

Wrong. All wrong.