Semua Bab The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Bab 451 - Bab 460

MiaThe words came through the phone and landed somewhere inside my skull but didn't connect to anything."Ms. Porter was found unconscious in her cell during a routine check at approximately 4:17 a.m."My eyes were open but I wasn't seeing the room anymore. I was seeing the back of my own eyelids from the inside, that strange red darkness you get when you close your eyes against bright light. The room was dim. And something was happening to my vision, tunneling inward, the edges going soft and dark.I blinked. Once. Twice. The room came back.The gray blanket was still half-covering me, one corner twisted around my left leg. My coffee mug was on the table where I'd left it—I could see a film forming on the surface of the water, that oily shimmer that happens when water sits too long. Kyle was still asleep at the other end of the couch,.Everything was exactly as it had been thirty seconds ago."Medical personnel arrived immediately but were unable to revive her. Time of death was det

MiaI needed to get out.The walls of my apartment were closing in—not dramatically, not in that suffocating way people describe in books—just a gradual pressing that made my lungs work harder than they should. The air felt used. Breathed too many times by too many people.I looked at Kyle still standing by the coffee table. His hand was on the edge of it."I'm going out," I said."Okay.""The kids might wake up soon." I glanced at the hallway. The doors were still closed. "If they do—""I'll handle it.""Alexander needs help with his shirt. He always puts it on backwards. And Ethan won't eat if his food is touching on the plate. Madison—""I know."I stopped. Looked at him."You know?""I've been watching." He said it simply. "I know Alexander puts his shirt on backwards. I know Ethan doesn't like his food touching. I know Madison counts to seven before she takes her first bite of anything.""Okay," I said.I moved to the closet by the door. Pulled out Gas's leash. The metal clasp ma

MiaKyle's phone rings again. The third time in ten minutes. He glances at the screen, then silences it without answering, setting it face-down on the coffee table with a soft click that sounds too loud in the quiet apartment.I'm loading the dishwasher, fitting plates into their slots with more precision than necessary, the ceramic edges clinking against each other in a rhythm that's almost meditative. The morning light comes through the kitchen window at an angle that turns the soap bubbles iridescent, tiny rainbows that burst and reform as I work."You can answer that," I say, not looking at him. "It's not important.""Your business is always important.""You think my business is what matters most to me."It's a statement, flat and certain, and something about the way he says it makes me turn around.He's standing now, no longer on the couch but closer to the kitchen, his hands loose at his sides."I know your business matters most to you," I correct. "That's fine. That's who you

Mia's POVThe contractor had left the front door unlocked for us. The knob turns smoothly under my hand—new hardware, brushed nickel, the kind that doesn't show fingerprints. I'd chosen it specifically for that reason. Three children and a dog means fingerprints on everything.The door swings open and the smell hits me first.Fresh paint. New wood. That particular clean scent of a space that hasn't been lived in yet. No cooking smells, no laundry detergent, no accumulated dust. Just potential. Just waiting.Alexander pushes past me before I can stop him."WHOA!" His voice echoes in the empty space. The sound bounces off the walls, off the high ceilings, off the hardwood floors that haven't been scuffed yet. "IT'S HUGE!"He's already running. His sneakers squeak against the floor—that's one thing I didn't account for. New floors and children's shoes. The squeak is almost musical."Alexander!" I call after him. "Slow down!"He doesn't slow down. Of course he doesn't.Ethan steps inside

Mia's POV"Private." He repeats the word like he's testing it. "Architectural drawings are private?""Old ones. Yes.""Hm." He reaches down. Picks up one of the folders Alexander dropped. Opens it. His eyes scan the first page. "This is a good elevation drawing. Clean lines. Proper perspective.""Thank you."His fingers move to turn the page."Don't." My hand shoots out. Grabs the folder. Pulls it away from him before he can flip to the next page.The movement is too fast. Too desperate.Kyle's eyebrows rise slightly. That almost-smile playing at his mouth."Don't?" he repeats. His voice has changed. Gone softer. Almost amused."Don't look at those." I'm clutching the folder against my chest now. My heart hammering. "They're not—they're just old work. Homework assignments. Nothing worth looking at."He takes a step closer. Just one. But it's enough that I have to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact."You seemed pretty determined to stop me from seeing nothing worth look