Semua Bab The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Bab 161 - Bab 170

Mia's POVNothing came to my mind.Sleep seemed even more elusive now, but I forced myself to shut down my laptop and head to bed. Gas followed dutifully, settling at my feet with a contented sigh as I arranged pillows to support my aching back.I persuaded myself that I must sleep. And it worked.Morning arrived with pale winter sunlight filtering through my curtains and the distant sounds of Mom moving about the kitchen. I lay still for a moment, rubbing my eyes.I settled in the living room with my laptop, intending to do some work on the children's center project. The final touches were being implemented, with the grand opening scheduled for just after New Year's. Assuming the twins cooperated and stayed put until their due date in January, I hoped to attend.I couldn't help but think of Nate. Will he come?I always feel like he's avoiding me. I want to get to the bottom of it all. But something stops me.I was deep in correspondence with the contractor about some last-minute adju

Mia's POV"Don't react," I tell myself, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Don't give them what they want."But I can't stop scrolling. It's like watching a car crash—horrifying, but impossible to look away from. Every news site, every gossip blog, every social media platform seems to be exploding with "breaking news" about the scandalous gold-digger who trapped billionaire CEO Kyle Branson with a pregnancy.Me.The New York Times article is predictably more restrained than the tabloids, presenting "allegations" and "sources close to the family" rather than outright character assassination. Still, the implications are clear: I manipulated my way into Kyle's life, used my position as his secretary to seduce him, orchestrated a pregnancy to secure my financial future, and am now engaged in a bitter custody battle while carrying his children.The headline stares back at me: "Branson Billions Battle: The Secretary, The Scandal, and the Surrogate Mother Claims."Surrogate mother claim

Mia's POV"Are you okay?" Scarlett asked, noticing that I had fallen silent.I blinked, pulling myself back from the spiral of thoughts threatening to drag me under. The conference room felt too small suddenly, the air too thick despite the building's perfect ventilation system."I'm fine," I lied, shifting in the plush executive chair that was still somehow uncomfortable against my aching back. "I just want to see Kyle."Scarlett studied me with the intense scrutiny that only lifelong friends can get away with, her eyes narrowing slightly."Okay," she said finally. "But promise me one thing, alright?""What?""If things get out of hand, or if the press seems to have noticed your presence, you have to leave immediately. No arguments."I nodded. "I promise." The last thing I wanted was to appear in tomorrow's tabloids, looking emotional and desperate as I confronted my ex-husband. It would only reinforce Taylor's narrative of me

Mia's POVUnderstanding then happiness in his face. "You saw me in the hallway."It's not a question, but I nod anyway.Kyle visibly brightened up. "You saw me in the hallway." He repeated.I wanted to tell him that I was not deaf.But he quickly added, "With Alexis Moore," he continues. "My new PR director.""Oh. "I looked away. “Okay.”So that's who she is. His PR director. I keep my expression carefully neutral. "It doesn't matter who she is, Kyle. I just needed to know what you're doing about these articles. The lies they're spreading about me. About us."I could tell Kyle was studying my expression carefully. “Are you jealous, Mia?”I rolled my eyes. This bastard. "I think I should tell my mom that the five minutes are up."He stopped me.He cleared his throat. "That's exactly what Alexis and I were discussing," he says. "Our strategy for addressing the media situation.""And?" I prompt when he doesn't continue."And I'm handling it," he says. "Robert is filing injunctions, as I'

Mia's POVWhat the fuck with Kyle?My phone rings—Scarlett. I answer on autopilot, still reeling from what I've just read."Tell me you're watching this," she says without greeting. "Kyle has lost his fucking mind.""I saw the article," I manage. "Is it—is it really as bad as it sounds?""Worse," she assures me. "He's on every major news channel right now. I'm sending you the video."Moments later, my phone pings with an incoming message. I open it with trembling fingers, bracing myself for whatever I'm about to see.The video shows Kyle standing at a podium bearing the Branson Industries logo, his expression serious but determined. He looks immaculate as always, in a perfectly tailored suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders and lean frame. But there's something different about him—an intensity, a barely contained energy that radiates through the screen."Good morning," he begins, his deep voice steady. "I a