The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 491

Mia's POV

"DADDY'S HERE!" Alexander's voice explodes through the house like a small bomb. His feet thunder down the stairs—I've told him a thousand times not to run on the stairs, a thousand times—and Ethan follows at a more measured pace, though I can see he's fighting the urge to run too.

Madison stands at the top of the staircase. Watching. Her pink elephant clutched against her chest.

"Come on, sweetheart." I hold out my hand. "Let's go see Daddy."

She takes my hand. Her fingers are cold.

We walk down together, slow, her pace. By the time we reach the bottom, Alexander has already flung the door open and launched himself at Kyle like a heat-seeking missile.

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY! We're going to the AMUSEMENT PARK! There are RIDES! And COTTON CANDY! And—"

I round the corner.

And stop.

Kyle is standing in my doorway with Alexander wrapped around his legs like a barnacle. But that's not what makes me stop.

He's wearing—

I blink.

He's wearing a dark blue athletic jacket. A light gray t-shirt underneath. Athletic pants. White sneakers.

I've seen Kyle in athletic wear before. Of course I have. Three years of marriage—I've seen him come back from the gym, seen him on the treadmill in our home, seen him in those obscenely expensive compression shirts.

But that was always at home. Behind closed doors. The moment Kyle Branson stepped outside, it was back to the three-piece suits, the hand-stitched Italian leather, the armor of a man who controlled boardrooms and bent markets to his will.

Kyle Branson does not go out in public looking like he's about to coach a kids' soccer game.

And yet.

Here he is.

His hair is different too. No product.

He looks... soft. Approachable. Like someone you might actually talk to at a PTA meeting instead of someone whose assistant's assistant would schedule a call with your assistant.

I almost want to check if there's a hidden camera somewhere. Kyle Branson: Undercover Dad. Coming this fall to a streaming platform near you.

"Daddy!" Alexander is still yelling. "Daddy, we match! Look! LOOK!"

Kyle looks down at himself. Then at Alexander, who is indeed wearing a blue jacket. Then back at himself.

"So we do," he says. "What a coincidence."

"Technically," Ethan says, examining both of them with scientific intensity, "your blue is cobalt while Alexander's is more of a navy. The wavelength difference is approximately—"

"We MATCH," Alexander insists. "We're a TEAM. Team Blue!"

Madison tugs my hand. I look down at her.

"We're like a team," she whispers. So quiet. Like she's afraid saying it too loud will make it not true.

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