The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 480

Mia's POV

The screen goes dark.

Time stops making sense after the fourth champagne.

Or the fifth. Or the shot that Marcos slides across the table with that smile—the one that promises nothing good and everything fun.

"This one's called Amnesia," he says.

"That seems like a warning," I say.

"That seems like a promise," Sophie corrects, and we all drink.

The world softens at the edges. The bass becomes less a sound and more a feeling—something that lives inside my chest, syncing with my heartbeat until I can't tell where the music ends and I begin. The lights are prettier now. The purple bleeds into pink bleeds into gold bleeds into something that doesn't have a name. Like the club is breathing. Like we're all inside some giant, glittering creature, and it's swallowing us whole.

Sophie is dancing on the couch. When did Sophie get on the couch? Her heels are somewhere else—abandoned, forgotten—and her hair has come undone from its perfect chignon, spilling down her back in dark waves. She looks like a painting. Like something you'd see in a museum with a title like "Woman Untethered" or "Joy, Unfiltered."

"I LOVE THIS SONG!" she screams.

"WHAT SONG?" Scarlett screams back.

"ALL OF THEM! EVERY SONG!"

Scarlett is laughing. Really laughing. That deep, uncontrollable kind that makes her whole body shake. Her leather pants are still pristine—how are they still pristine?—but her mascara has smudged and her lipstick has transferred to her champagne glass and she looks younger than I've ever seen her. Softer. Like the divorce and the reconciliation and all the hard years have melted away and left behind the girl she used to be.

"Mia." Someone is touching my arm. "Mia, hey."

I turn. The world turns with me—slower, like moving through honey.

Daniel's face swims into focus. His beautiful face. His concerned face. Why is he concerned? Everything is wonderful. Everything is sparkling.

"How many drinks have you had?"

I hold up my hand. Count my fingers. There are too many fingers. When did I get extra fingers?

"Several," I say. The word comes out wrong. Sheveral. "Shev-er-al."

"That's what I thought." His hand is on my elbow now. Steadying. "Where are your car keys?"

"Don't have any." I'm very proud that I can form this sentence. "Sophie. Sophie drove. Sophie's car. Sophie's keys. Sophie's everything."

"Sophie is in no condition to drive anything."

"Sophie is in PERFECT condition!" Sophie shouts from the couch. "PEAK CONDITION! OLYMPIAN CONDITION!"

"Sophie is going to sleep here tonight," Daniel says. Gentle. Patient. "Scarlett too. I have rooms upstairs."

"Rooms," I repeat. The word is funny. Roooooms. "You have rooms. You have everything. You have a club and rooms and pretty boys and—"

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