The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 267

Chapter 267 My Good Mood Was Ruined

Chapter 267 My Good Mood Was Ruined

Mia’s POV

My good mood was ruined by Morton’s appearance.

Actually, I hadn’t seen him in nearly two years. Since he divorced Scarlett, our lives had no overlap.

A few years ago, I had begged Morton to give me some news about Kyle.

Later, I gave up completely..

Morton and Kyle truly are good brothers–they’re both idiots in my eyes now.

Self–righteous, cold–hearted idiots.

I watched through the bar’s front window as Morton carefully helped Scarlett into what looked like a black sedan. Even from this distance, I could see how gently he was handling her, making sure she was secure before closing the door.

Whatever complicated feelings existed between those two, it was clear that Morton still cared about her.

I had planned to drive straight home, but since I was in a bad mood, I ordered another drink.

The bartender, a young guy with sleeve tattoos and a sympathetic expression, slid a glass of white wine across the bar to me.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“You could say that,” I replied, taking a sip.

Soon after, the bartender told me a man had ordered one for me and said today’s drinks were on him.

I found it a bit amusing. I turned to look at the man a few meters away. He was, at best, a decent–looking guy.

Mid–thirties, probably. Wearing a button–down shirt that was trying too hard to look casual. The kind of guy who probably worked in finance and thought buying women drinks was still an effective pickup strategy.

But compared to Kyle and Thomas, there was no comparison.

I beckoned him over, and he probably thought I was interested in him, so he came right over.

He sat down on the stool next to me and started with the most clichéd pickup line.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar with what I’m sure he thought was a charming smile, “what’s a beautiful woman like you doing drinking alone on a Friday night?”

There’s one thing I’ve never understood: why do so many men overestimate their own attractiveness?

I didn’t answer him; instead, I let him lean in closer.

“I’m David,” he continued, apparently interpreting my silence as encouragement. “I work in investment banking. Just closed a big deal today, actually. That’s why I’m out celebrating.”

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“Congratulations,” I said flatly.

“Thanks. So what do you do? Let me guess–model? Actress?”

I almost laughed out loud. This guy was really pulling out all the stops.

“I’m an architect,” I said.

“Wow, beauty and brains. I like that.” He moved his stool closer to mine. “You know, I have a place in the Village. Great view of the city. Maybe we could-”

Then I whispered, “I have two children, an ex–husband who’s like a madman, and a very protective boyfriend.”

Sure enough, the man’s face turned pale.

His confident smile faltered, and I watched as he processed what I’d just told him. His eyes darted around the bar as if he was suddenly worried that my “very protective boyfriend” might materialize out of thin air.

“Oh,” he said, already starting to back away. “I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t…”

“Trying to pick me up?” I finished for him. “Because that’s exactly what you were doing.”

“Right. Well. Enjoy your evening,” he mumbled, practically falling off his stool in his hurry to get away from me.

Then he ran off.

I laughed and downed the rest of my drink in one gulp.

The bartender, who had clearly been watching the entire exchange, grinned as he wiped down a glass.

“That was brutal,” he said approvingly. “Effective, but brutal.”

“I’m too old and too tired for games,” I replied, sliding my empty glass toward him.

“Another one?”

I considered it for a moment. The alcohol was making me feel warm and loose, and part of me wanted to keep drinking.

But then I thought about Alexander and Ethan, probably fast asleep at my mother’s house right now, their little faces peaceful and trusting.

I didn’t choose to keep drinking. Because when it came to “I have two children,” I wasn’t lying.

After drinking so much, I definitely couldn’t drive myself home.

I paid my tab, left a generous tip for the tattooed bartender, and made my way toward the exit. The bar had gotten more crowded while I’d been sitting there, and I had to weave between clusters of young professionals and college students.

I walked out onto the road to feel the cold breeze, my face burning.

The night air hit me like a slap, cutting through the alcohol haze and making me realize just how much I’d had

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to drink. Not enough to be stumbling–drunk like Scarlett had been, but definitely enough that I shouldn’t be behind the wheel.

I stood by the roadside, letting the cold wind blow across my face.

The street was busy despite the late hour. Cars moved past in steady streams, their headlights creating streaks of light in my slightly blurred vision. A group of college–aged kids stumbled past, laughing loudly about something that probably wasn’t as funny as they thought it was.

I pulled out my phone to call an Uber, squinting at the screen as I tried to focus on the app.

That’s when I heard a sarcastic voice behind me say, “Look who it is–it’s Mia Williams, isn’t it?”

I turned around.