All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

*Mia's POV*Time slowed to a crawl as I watched Taylor's Porsche barreling toward me. My body moved on instinct, survival reflexes kicking in despite my awkward pregnant state. I threw myself sideways, rolling onto the grass strip beside the walkway. The impact sent shooting pain through my ankle, but the soft ground cushioned my fall enough to protect my stomach.The horrific screech of metal on concrete filled the air as Taylor's car slammed into the retaining wall. The sound of the crash echoed off nearby buildings, followed by the tinkle of shattered glass hitting pavement.My hands immediately went to my belly, checking for any signs of distress from the babies. They shifted normally - if anything, more active than usual from the adrenaline coursing through my system. My ankle throbbed, but that was secondary to ensuring my children were safe.With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911."911, what's your emergency?""Someone just tried to run me over," I said, k

Mia's POVThe journalists wanted to eat me.Martinez frowned. "We can take you in through the service entrance.""I'll handle them," Nate said firmly. "You focus on getting Mia inside safely."He stepped out first, Gas at his heels. The reporters descended immediately, microphones extended, questions overlapping:"Sir, what's your connection to Mia Williams?""Is it true Taylor Matthews attempted murder?""Dr. Pierce, are you and Ms. Williams romantically involved?"Martinez held up his hands, his posture straight and commanding. "Ms. Williams has no comment at this time. She's been through a traumatic experience and asks for privacy as she recovers."His authoritative tone made several reporters step back. Gas positioned himself protectively between the cameras and the car door as Martinez helped me out. The flashes were blinding, making me stumble slightly."Ms. Williams! Is it true you're pregnant?"The question hit like ice water. I froze."No questions," Martinez said firmly, shi

Mia's POVMorning brought a fresh wave of chaos. Scarlett arrived like a hurricane at 7 AM, somehow having convinced the police officer to let her in. She burst into my bedroom, still wearing what looked like resort clothes, her face bare of makeup and creased with worry."Oh my god!" She flung herself onto my bed, barely missing Gas, who scrambled away with an indignant huff. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw the news! Are you okay? Let me see your ankle. Did they get that bitch in jail? I swear to god, Mia, if you ever keep something like this from me again—""Scarlett," I managed, sitting up groggily. "Breathe.""Breathe? BREATHE?" She pulled back to glare at me. "My best friend almost gets murdered and you want me to breathe?""Yes, because you're going to hyperventilate." I grabbed her flailing hands. "I'm okay. Really. Just a sprained ankle and some bruises."She studied my face intently, as if looking for hidden damage. Finally, her shoulders slumped. "I was so scared," s

*Mia's POV*The café was exactly halfway between our old house and my new apartment. Neutral territory, my lawyer had called it when suggesting the location. Through the window, I could already see Kyle at a corner table, looking impeccable as always in one of his perfectly tailored suits. He was early.My phone buzzed with a message from Robert: *Remember, you're not obligated to agree to anything today. This is just a preliminary discussion.*I took a deep breath, smoothing my sweater over my clearly visible bump. No point trying to hide it now—my pregnant status was splashed across every gossip site and society blog in the city. The headlines ranged from sympathetic ("Pregnant Ex-Wife of Business Tycoon Targeted in Shocking Attack") to scandalous ("Kyle Branson's Secret Love Child Drama").Kyle stood as I approached, something flickering in his eyes as they dropped to my stomach. For a moment, neither of us spoke."You're looking well," he said finally, his voice carefully neutral.

Mia's POVI listen to my mother's phone conversation with her lawyer. I can tell she truly wants to send her ex-husband to prison. I sit on the sofa and try to find a comfortable position, as my belly is getting bigger and bigger. Gas lies at my feet.“Yes, I understand the implications,” Mom's voice came from the kitchen, her usual shrill tone when she was dealing with legal matters. ”But I need the records from 1995 to 2000. All of them.”Gas nudged my ankle with his nose, placed his favorite rope toy on my lap, and his eyes filled with hope. I smiled and picked up the worn-out piece of string. Our games had become more gentle since I became pregnant. Gas had made his compromises for me.“Be careful, Mommy,” I murmured as we played a modified version of catch, throwing the toy very close. Gas ran over happily.I picked up the stack of papers Mom had left on the coffee table: bank statements, property records. Mom had really done her work.I flipped to “James Young Investigation,” th