Semua Bab The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Bab 311 - Bab 320

Mia's POVI stared at the newspaper in Alexander's small hands, the word "obituary" printed in stark black letters across the top of the page. "Where did you see this word, dear?" I asked, setting down my mug."Right here," Alexander pointed to the headline with his index finger, already sticky from syrup. A small fingerprint smudged the black ink. "What does it mean?"I leaned closer to examine the page he was holding. The local obituary section stretched across two pages, filled with small black and white photographs of recently deceased individuals alongside carefully crafted summaries attempting to capture entire lifetimes in a few paragraphs. "This is the section of the newspaper that tells people when someone has passed away," I said slowly, selecting each word like stepping stones across a rushing stream. "When people die, their family members write stories about their lives so that others can remember them and know what kind of person they were."Ethan looked up from his met

Mia's POV"Don't touch me!" The words tore from my throat.I stared at him, this familiar stranger. "So you're done pretending then? No more Jackson Maxwell? "Hairline fractures running through his composure."Mia—""Oh, don't." I held up my hand. "Don't you dare! Tell me, Kyle, how exhausting was it? Maintaining that ridiculous performance day after day?"I took a step closer, ignoring the fire shooting up my ankle, and studied his face . "Let me guess. You had to get up extra early every morning to apply whatever they use to make your skin look different. Whiter, wasn't it? Like you'd been living under a rock for months. And the hair, God, did you actually bleach it?"His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath skin."Oh." I laugh with tear. "The facial structure changes, right? What did they do, file down your cheekbones? Reshape your jaw? You look like someone took a chisel to your face."I leaned in closer. "And these ridiculous colored contacts. Hazel instead of brown. Did you

Mia's POVThe drive home felt like swimming through thick honey, each mile stretched into eternity by the phantom ache in my ankle and the phantom pain in my chest that had nothing to do with physical injury. It’s like ascending through layers of water, pressure building in my ears until I had to swallow hard to make it pop.I stood outside my apartment door for a long moment, key poised at the lock, listening to the sounds of life filtering through the wood. Gas barking with the particular timber that meant he was playing, not alarmed. The twins' laughter bubbling up like champagne foam.The key turned with a soft click that sounded like a small bone breaking."Mama!" Alexander launched himself at me the moment I stepped through the door, his small body colliding with my legs with the force of a tiny meteorite. The impact sent a fresh bolt of pain through my injured ankle, but I welcomed it."Easy, baby," I murmured, steadying myself against the doorframe while my son wrapped his ar

Mia's POVI called Scarlett at eight in the morning because I did not sleep last night. The phone rang twice before her groggy voice answered."Jesus, Mia. What time is it?""Thomas knew." The words came out flat. Empty. "He's known Kyle was there this whole time."A pause. The sound of rustling sheets."Shit," Scarlett said. "Shit, shit, shit.""And you don't sound surprised."Another pause. Longer this time."Mia—""You knew too.""Not exactly. I...suspected."I was sitting on my kitchen floor. The tiles were cold against my legs. Gas lay beside me."How long?" I asked."How long what?""How long have you suspected?"Scarlett sighed. The sound carried through the phone like smoke. "Remember that fight Morton and I had? The big one, before our divorce?"I remembered. Scarlett had called me crying. "It was about Kyle," I said."I kept asking Morton questions. It didn't make sense to me."The twins were still asleep. I could hear Alexander's breathing through the baby monitor, that so

Mia's POVMount Sinai Hospital looked the same as it had four years ago when I'd given birth to the twins. Same revolving doors that moved too slowly. Same antiseptic smell that caught in your throat. Same fluorescent lights that made everyone look same face.I stood in the lobby for a moment, watching people move past me like water around a stone.Nurses in scrubs. Families clutching visitor passes. The rhythm of a place where life and death happened.The information desk was staffed by an elderly woman with kind eyes and the practiced patience of someone who'd answered the same questions a thousand times."I'm looking for information about my husband's medical care," I said. "Kyle Branson. He would have been treated here over the past few years."She typed his name into her computer. Frowned. Typed again."Are you listed as his emergency contact?""I should be. We were married when he was last admitted."More typing. The frown deepened."I'm showing some confidential flags on this ac