The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 280

Chapter 280 The princess–heiress

Mia’s POV

Is that Morton?

Damn it.

Thank goodness Scarlett isn’t here tonight.

I squinted through the crowd, trying to get a better look. The man standing near the champagne fountain was definitely Morton.

Thomas led the twins toward the upper deck, pointing out the city lights reflected on the water. The boys pressed their faces against the glass railings, chattering excitedly about the boats in the harbor.

“Mama, look!” Alexander called out. “There’s a helicopter landing on that building!”

“Where?” Ethan immediately joined his brother, straining to see.

I followed them, but kept glancing back toward where I’d spotted Morton.

There was a woman beside him who seemed to be trying to strike up a conversation. She was tall, elegant, with dark hair swept into a sophisticated chignon. Everything about her screamed old money and social connections.

I hesitated, wondering whether to take a photo and send it to Scarlett.

The woman leaned closer to Morton, placing her manicured hand on his arm. Her body language was unmistakably flirtatious.

Morton’s response was polite but distant. He stepped back slightly, creating space between them.

Soon, I saw that Morton had apparently refused the woman’s invitation to continue talking.

He walked off in another direction, leaving the woman looking mildly embarrassed.

Alright. I decided not to report this to Scarlett.

Scarlett had enough problems without me stirring the pot.

“Uncle Thomas, can we go to that part of the boat?” Alexander pointed toward a section of the deck where other children were running around.

“It’s called a ship, not a boat,” Ethan corrected.

Thomas caught my eye and grinned. “How does a four–year–old know the difference between boats and ships?”

“Documentary about shipbuilding,” I explained. “He watched it three times last week.”

Thomas came over and took my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “What were you looking at so intently?”

I was a bit excited and wanted to tell Thomas about spotting Morton. ‘I saw Morton. No wonder Scarlett didn’t want to come today.‘

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Morton’s here? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. He was over by the champagne fountain.”

I wanted to find Morton again, but there were too many people, and I couldn’t locate him in the crowd.

The party had grown even more crowded since we’d arrived. Waiters weaved through the guests with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. The jazz quartet had been joined by additional musicians, and the music filled the evening air.

Thomas pinched my chin playfully, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Look at you, getting all worked up over party gossip.”

“I am not gossipy,” I protested.

“You absolutely are,” Thomas laughed.

“I prefer to think of it as being observant,” I said with mock dignity.

“Observant. Right.” Thomas pulled me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist. “What else have you observed‘ tonight?”

Before I could answer, there was a commotion in the crowd near the main salon.

The conversations around us grew louder, more animated. People began moving toward whatever was happening inside.

Thomas turned around, following the direction of the excitement. “Mia, someone’s about to make an appearance.”

I laughed, poking him in the ribs. “Look who’s being gossipy now. Do you know Miss Field?”

Thomas considered this for a moment. “I’ve had some business dealings with the Field family over the years, but nothing too close. Mostly through intermediaries.”

“What kind of business?”

“Investment partnerships. Real estate development. The usual wealthy family portfolio management.”

Thomas had also heard about the Field family finding a new female heiress.

So I took a sip of wine casually, deciding to wait until the initial frenzy died down.

The crowd was moving in one direction, like a slow–moving river of expensive clothing and jewelry.

Only a few people remained in our section of the deck, either uninterested in the spectacle or unable to push through the crowd.

I saw Morton again.

This time he was standing near the edge of the crowd, not participating in the excitement but watching from a distance.

There was a man beside him. I couldn’t see clearly from this angle.

They appeared to be having an intense conversation. Morton’s body language was tense, focused.

The other man had his back to me, but something about his height and build seemed familiar.

The man turned slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his profile.

My blood froze instantly.

The wine glass slipped from my suddenly numb fingers.

It shattered on the deck with a sharp crash, sending pieces of glass and white wine across the polished surface.

Despite the constant noise of the party, the sound was unusually piercing.

Several people turned to look at me, their expressions ranging from mild concern to annoyance.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A waiter appeared immediately with a small broom and dustpan.

But I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t even breathe properly.

Because the man talking to Morton was Jackson Maxwell.

Morton knew Jackson Maxwell?

How could he know Jackson Maxwell and never say anything?