All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Chapter 461 - Chapter 470

Mia's POVMy heartbeat is too loud.The leaves keep hitting us. Small impacts on Kyle's back, his shoulders. The children's laughter is bright and sharp in the cold air. Alexander is shrieking something about "GET THEM BOTH!" and Madison's giggle has that breathless quality she gets when she's truly delighted.But all I can focus on is the rhythm under my ear.Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Too fast.His arm is around my back. Solid. Heavy. His hand cradling my head like I'm something fragile that might break if he lets go. His chin rests on top of my head—I can feel the slight pressure of it, the warmth of his breath disturbing my hair.This is too much.The realization hits suddenly. Too close. Too warm. Too many points of contact—my cheek against his chest, his arm around me, my hands that have somehow ended up fisted in the front of his sweater.When did I grab his sweater?I need to move. Need to put space between us. Need air that doesn't smell like cedar and cold leaves and him.I p

Mia's POV"And for the grown-ups?" The waitress looks at me."Just a water.""You're not eating?" Kyle asks."I'm not hungry."He orders for himself. Then changes his mind. Adds a second order of chicken. "In case someone changes their mind about being hungry."The waitress writes it down. Walks away. Her sneakers squeak slightly on the linoleum floor. That sound old shoes make when the rubber sole is wearing thin.The children are coloring on the paper menus with the crayons the restaurant provides. The crayons are broken. Stubby. The red one is just a nub. Alexander uses it anyway. Drawing what he claims is our new house but looks more like a rectangle with windows."Does the house have a name?" Madison asks."A name?" I look at her. "Houses don't have names, sweetheart.""Some houses do. Big houses. Like on TV.""This isn't that kind of house.""But we could give it a name anyway." She's very serious about this. "We could call it something. Something special.""Like what?"She thin

Mia's POVMia's POV"'I have a wife,'" I mimic his tone, straightening my spine the way he did, squaring my shoulders. "'We're working things out.' Very convincing."His mouth twitches. Just the corner. That almost-smile that's more dangerous than a real one. "It would have been convincing if you hadn't blown it."The laugh bubbles up again. I can't help it. "You're ridiculous.""You enjoyed that too much.""I enjoyed it exactly the right amount." I'm grinning up at him nowThe fluorescent lights above us flicker once. The kind of old restaurant lighting that makes everyone look slightly jaundiced, except somehow Kyle still looks—He's looking down at me now. His eyes moving over my face in a way that makes me aware of every feature. My nose. My cheekbones. My mouth. His gaze lingers there for a half-second too long before traveling back up to meet my eyes.The restaurant noise hasn't stopped—I can still hear the kitchen staff shouting orders in the back, the hiss of the fryer, someon

Kyle's POVThe key slides into the ignition. Metal on metal. That specific sound of precise German engineering. The engine starts—smooth, quiet, the kind of purr that costs more than most people's annual salary.I adjust the rearview mirror.In the mirror, I can see all three children. Alexander is clutching the pink elephant. Madison has her seatbelt on already—always the first one buckled. Ethan is looking out the window at something I can't see.Mia opens the passenger door. The interior light comes on. That soft yellow glow that makes everything look warmer than it is.She slides in. The leather creaks slightly as she settles into the seat. Her hand reaches for the seatbelt—automatic motion, muscle memory—and I hear the click as it locks into place.The door closes. The light fades.I should start driving.My hand is on the gear shift. Ready to put the car in reverse. But I'm not moving yet because Mia is adjusting something. Her jacket. She's pulling it off. The fabric rustling.

Kyle's POV"You should hurry," he says. Without looking at me. Just matter-of-fact. "The parking garage gets colder as the night progresses. The concrete acts as a heat sink. Mama will lose body temperature at approximately 0.3 degrees per minute without the car's heating system.""Thank you, Ethan.""You're welcome."He walks to his room. Closes the door. The sound of it is soft. Controlled. Very Ethan.I stand in the empty living room.The lamp with the crooked shade casts shadows on the wall. Long ones. Distorted. The shape of furniture made strange by angle and light.The apartment smells like them. Like Mia and the children. That particular combination of lavender fabric softener and something baking—cookies maybe, from earlier in the week—and dog and childhood and home.This is Mia's apartment. Her space.Back to the door. Down the hallway. Into the elevator that still smells faintly of our presence.The car is where I left it. Of course it is. She's still there.I can see her t