All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

**Kyle's POV**I stood outside our bedroom door, my forehead pressed against the cool wood, listening to Mia's muffled sobs. Each broken sound pierced something deep in my chest, an unfamiliar ache I couldn't name. My hand rested on the doorknob, neither turning it nor letting go.Time stretched endlessly in that dark hallway. Minutes? Hours? I couldn't tell. I only knew I couldn't leave until her crying stopped. Until I was sure she'd fallen asleep.When silence finally fell, I waited longer still. Just to be certain.The door opened soundlessly under my hand. Moonlight spilled through the windows, painting silver trails across Mia's tear-stained cheeks. She looked small in our massive bed, curled tight around herself as if trying to hold something together.Moving closer, I studied Mia's sleeping face. Even unconscious, she didn't look peaceful. Her brow was furrowed, lips trembling slightly. Dried tears glittered on her lashes.Had she always looked this fragile? This broken? How l

**Mia's POV**My father hadn't changed. Not one bit.He stood in the center of what used to be our living room, every inch the successful businessman in his tailored charcoal suit. The same rigid posture, the same cold eyes, the same air of perpetual disappointment when he looked at me. Only the silver threading his temples hinted at the passage of time.The room itself had transformed completely since my childhood. Mom's beloved watercolors had been replaced by expensive abstract pieces that Taylor's mother preferred. The warm, comfortable furniture was gone, exchanged for sleek leather and chrome that matched their sophisticated tastes. Even the air felt different – no longer the subtle scent of Mom's favorite jasmine tea, but something artificial, designer, chosen to impress rather than comfort.Taylor perched on the arm of Dad's favorite leather chair, the same chair where Mom used to read me bedtime stories. Her Louboutin heels crossed elegantly at the ankle, her cream designer dr

**Mia's POV**The morning sun filtered through the guest room's bay windows, casting long shadows across my makeshift studio. Drawings covered every surface – elevation plans pinned to walls, material samples scattered across tables, 3D renderings glowing on multiple screens. The organized chaos felt right, felt like coming home to a part of myself I'd almost forgotten."Mrs. Branson?" Mrs. Chen's soft knock interrupted my concentration. "Your morning tea."She entered carrying a silver tray, navigating carefully around stacks of blueprints. Jasmine steam curled in the air, a small attempt at comfort in this too-quiet house."Thank you, Mrs. Chen," I murmured, not looking up from the detail I was sketching – an intricate pattern for the atrium's skylight. "You can just leave it anywhere.""Three days," she said, arranging a plate of small sandwiches beside the tea. "Three days you've barely left this room. Barely eaten.""I've eaten," I protested, but even I could hear how weak it soun

**Mia's POV**The foyer felt too small, too warm in the wake of Catherine's departure. The lingering scent of her herbs mixed with the familiar notes of Kyle's cologne, creating something heady and strange in the air between us. Kyle stood perfectly still, his usual impeccable appearance slightly disrupted – tie loosened, emerald nail mark stark against his white shirt, a flush rising along his cheekbones.I studied the intricate patterns in the marble flooring, tracing the swirls with my eyes. Anything to avoid looking at him directly. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the gentle tick of the grandfather clock and the distant sounds of Mrs. Chen in the kitchen."I should..." My voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar. I cleared my throat, trying again. "I need to shower. Get ready for bed.""Of course." His voice was carefully neutral, practiced. Then, unexpectedly: "Your designs for the Havers project."I looked up despite myself. "What?""They're exceptional." Something flickered i

**Mia's POV**Sleep had been elusive, leaving me tossing and turning in sheets that still held traces of Kyle's cologne. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face in the moonlight, felt the ghost of his touch. Catherine's potion had finally worn off, but the memories remained, sharp and clear in the endless night hours.Dawn found me exhausted, dark circles beneath my eyes that even expensive concealer couldn't quite hide. I pulled on a simple cream sweater and black pants, armor against whatever this day might bring.The sound of clattering pans drew me to the kitchen. I stopped dead in the doorway, certain I must still be dreaming.Kyle Branson - immaculate, perfectionist Kyle - stood at the stove surrounded by chaos. Eggshells littered the counter. A dusting of flour marked his otherwise pristine grey suit. Something that might have been an omelet sizzled ominously in the pan."What are you doing?" The words came out more bewildered than I intended.He looked up, and for a moment