The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 476

Mia's POV

"Is Sophie about to seduce your friend?" she whispers. Her breath is warm against my ear. Close enough that I can smell the cranberry on her lips.

"It looks that way."

"Should we stop her?"

"Can anyone stop Sophie?"

"Fair point."

Sophie has released Daniel's hand finally. She's sitting down now. In the seat next to him. Closer than strictly nChapter 475 The Divorced Women Energyecessary. Her thigh almost touching his. The leather booth curves around them, creating an intimate half-circle that separates them from the rest of the VIP section.

"So," she says. Her voice has dropped. Gone smokier. The words almost lost in the pulse of the bass. "You own this place?"

"Co-own. My business partner handles the boring parts."

"And what parts do you handle?"

The question hangs there. Loaded. The lights shift again—purple to blue to pink—and Daniel's face cycles through colors like he's in a dream. His smile widens. The expression is different now. Less practiced. More genuine.

"The fun parts."

"I bet you do."

"SOPHIE." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "Stop. Please. He's my friend."

Sophie looks at me. One eyebrow raised. The movement precise. Calculated. Everything about Sophie is calculated.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're doing EVERYTHING. I can see it from here."

"I'm just being friendly."

"That's not friendly. That's—" I gesture vaguely at her entire body language. At the way she's angled toward Daniel. At the hand that's somehow found its way to his knee. The movement catches the light—her rings flashing, her nails gleaming. "—that's predatory."

Daniel laughs again. He doesn't seem bothered by the description. If anything, he seems intrigued. His posture has shifted slightly—not pulling away, but not leaning in either. Maintaining his space while allowing her to occupy hers.

"She's not wrong," he tells Sophie. "You do have a certain... energy."

"What kind of energy?"

"The kind that makes men nervous." He picks up his whiskey. Takes a sip. Doesn't move away from her touch. The ice has melted completely now, the drink diluted and pale. "In a good way."

"There's a nervous-in-a-good-way?"

"There's definitely a nervous-in-a-good-way."

"Interesting." Sophie's fingers tap against his knee. Light. Rhythmic. Matching the bass from below. "Tell me more about this nervousness."

"OKAY." I hold up both hands. "Enough. Both of you. Daniel—she's been divorced three times. Three. One of them was annulled after forty-eight hours."

Daniel's eyebrows go up. The movement pulls at his whole face, transforming his expression into something between impressed and alarmed.

"Forty-eight hours?"

"He was boring," Sophie says. Unapologetic. The lights shift to pink, casting her face in a soft glow that makes her look almost innocent. She is anything but. "Life is too short."

"That's—" Daniel pauses. Considering. His finger traces the rim of his glass, a thoughtful gesture. "—actually kind of iconic."

"Thank you."

"I'm serious." He's looking at Sophie with new appreciation now. The kind of look that suggests recalculation. Reassessment. "Most people stay in boring relationships for years. Decades. You lasted forty-eight hours and said 'no thank you.' That takes courage."

"Or insanity," Scarlett mutters beside me. She's stirring her vodka cranberry with the tiny straw, creating a small whirlpool in the glass. The ice cubes clink together softly.

"Same thing sometimes." Daniel raises his glass. The liquid catches the light—amber turned purple turned blue. "To the women who refuse to settle."

Sophie raises her champagne. The bubbles catch the shifting lights, turning the glass into something that looks like it's filled with tiny stars. Scarlett rolls her eyes but raises her vodka cranberry. I lift my pathetic sparkling water, the bubbles long dead, the lime wedge wilted against the glass.

We drink.

The music shifts again. Something with a different tempo—slower, more melodic. The bass is still there but more subdued. Background rather than foreground. Around us, other VIP tables are filling up. Women in dresses that cost more than my monthly mortgage. Men in shirts unbuttoned just enough to suggest wealth and indiscretion.

"You know what I sense from you three?" Daniel sets down his glass. The sound is soft against the table, barely audible over the music. He's looking at all of us now. That particular focus he gets. Like when he's diagnosing a patient, but warmer. More personal. "You all have this—this ENERGY. This vibe. Like you've been through something and come out the other side."

"Divorced women energy," Sophie says immediately. "That's what it is."

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