The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 223

3/3

Chapter 223 Enough obsessing

Chapter 223 Enough obsessing

Mia’s POV

“Mom, you’re doing it again,” Alexander said, tugging at my sleeve.

+25 BONUS

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring blankly at the half–made breakfast on the counter. The eggs sat in the bowl, whisk abandoned mid–stir. How long had I been standing there?

“Sorry, sweetie. Just thinking about work.” I forced a smile and resumed whisking.

“Your thinking face is scary,” Ethan observed from his perch at the breakfast bar. “You look like Gas when he sees the vacuum cleaner.”

Alexander nodded solemnly. “And you keep checking your phone. Is it broken?”

I glanced down at my phone, which I’d checked no fewer than fifteen times in the past hour. No new messages from the mysterious Jackson Maxwell. Just the formal email from his assistant confirming our next meeting next week.

“My phone is fine,” I assured them, pouring the eggs into the heated pan. “Just expecting some important work emails.”

The twins exchanged a look. I recognized it immediately: They didn’t believe me.

“Is Thomas coming for dinner tonight?” Alexander asked, changing the subject as he often did when he sensed tension.

“No, not tonight,” I replied, stirring the eggs. “I’m having dinner with Auntie Scar.”

“Will

she bring presents?” Ethan perked up.

“Probably,” I admitted. Scarlett never could resist spoiling them. “But that doesn’t mean you should expect presents every time you see her.”

“But she always brings them anyway,” Alexander reasoned with four–year–old logic. “So we should expect them, right?

I laughed despite myself. “Eat your breakfast, Mr. Lawyer.”

As they dug into their scrambled eggs, I found my thoughts drifting back to yesterday’s meeting. Jackson Maxwell. The man who wasn’t Kyle, but who looked so much like him that for a heart–stopping moment, believed the impossible.

I’d

All night, I’d scoured the internet for information about him. Jackson Maxwell was the grandson of real estate magnate William Maxwell, heir to a fortune built on luxury properties across the East Coast. His father had died when he was young, and his mother had remarried and moved to Europe. Jackson himself had spent most of his twenties traveling, only returning to the States three years ago to take over management of the family holdings after his grandfather’s death:

He was notoriously private. Few photographs existed–mostly grainy paparazzi shots of him entering buildings or at charity events. Nothing that would have prepared me for the uncanny resemblance to Kyle.

1/3

Chapter 223 Enough obsessing

“Mom, you’re burning the toast,” Ethan pointed out.

1 snapped back to reality and rescued the smoking bread from the toaster. “Thanks, eagle eyes.”

“Can I wear my astronaut shirt today?” Alexander asked, already halfway through his breakfast.

“It’s in the laundry,” I replied automatically. “Wear the blue one with the dinosaurs.”

“But Tommy said only babies wear dinosaurs,” he protested.

“Well, Tommy is wrong,” I said firmly. “Dinosaurs are cool at any age. And Alexander?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Remember what we talked about? About being kind to the new kids in class?”

He nodded solemnly. “Don’t make them cry even if they’re slow at block building.”

“Exactly. Everyone learns at their own pace.”

+25 BONUS

“And don’t tell them their drawing looks like Gas threw up,” Ethan added, clearly remembering his brother’s previous social misstep.

I stifled a laugh. “That too.”

Morning routines with twins were chaotic at the best of times. Today, with my mind elsewhere, it felt like herding cats through a water park. By the time we made it to the door, Ethan had changed shirts twice, Alexander had “lost” then miraculously “found” his left shoe, and I’d nearly poured orange juice into my coffee.

“Backpacks?” I asked, running through our mental checklist.

“Check!” they replied in unison.

“Lunch boxes?”

“Check!”

“Kind words for new friends?”

They grinned. “Double check!”

1 knelt down and pulled them both into a hug, breathing in the scent of apple shampoo and little–boy energy. “I love you monsters.”

“Love you infinity,” Alexander said, squeezing my neck.

“Love you infinity plus one,” Ethan added, as always.

We made it to preschool with two minutes to spare, joining the parade of harried parents dropping off equally energetic children. Ms. Patel greeted us at the door, her calm smile never wavering despite the chaos surrounding her.

“Good morning, Williams family!”

2/3

Chapter 223 Enough obsessing

+25 BONUS

“Ms. Patel, I made you something!” Ethan announced, digging into his backpack to produce a slightly crushed paper creation.

She accepted it with appropriate reverence. “A paper crane! Did you fold this yourself?”

He nodded proudly. “Uncle Nate taught me. It’s for good luck.”

“I’ll treasure it,” she promised. “Now, we’re painting with vegetables today, so prepare for colorful clothes at pickup.”

I groaned internally. “Wonderful.”

After kisses goodbye and one last reminder to be kind to everyone (even Tommy of the dinosaur prejudice), I watched them disappear into their classroom, immediately surrounded by friends.

Back in the car, I finally had a moment to breathe. And think. Which was dangerous,

I pulled out my phone and, against my better judgment, opened the search page I’d fallen asleep to last night: ” Jackson Maxwell background.”

There wasn’t much that I hadn’t already reviewed. Wealthy heir. Reclusive lifestyle. No public relationships. No scandals. Several mentions of his philanthropic work in ocean conservation. Nothing that linked him to Kyle in

any way.

I switched to the Branson Industries page. The company continued to thrive under the leadership team Kyle had put in place. New acquisitions, expanding markets, rising stock prices. All indications of a healthy corporation, despite the absent CEO.

Kyle Branson, officially, was on an “extended sabbatical for personal reasons.” The business world had speculated wildly at first–everything from terminal illness to secret government work–but after four years, he had become almost a legendary figure. The reclusive billionaire who disappeared at the height of his success. Only a handful of people knew the truth about the shooting, the twins‘ premature birth, and Kyle’s subsequent vanishing act. Morton had ensured the official story remained vague but unalarming.

I closed the browser and started the car. Enough obsessing. I had a full day of work ahead, a major project to plan, and dinner with Scarlett tonight.

Kyle Branson–or his doppelgänger–would have to wait.

3/3