All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Chapter 521 - Chapter 525

--- Bonus Chapters --- (Main story complete. These are extra scenes!)Mia's POVThere are things they don't tell you about honeymoons.They don't tell you that "romantic getaway" and "bringing three children under six" are mutually exclusive concepts. They don't tell you that the phrase "family honeymoon" is an oxymoron on par with "jumbo shrimp" or "deafening silence."And they definitely don't tell you that a private jet—a Gulfstream G650, to be precise—does absolutely nothing to muffle the sound of three overexcited children discovering that airplane bathrooms are, in Alexander's words, "BASICALLY MAGIC PORTALS.""IT FLUSHES WITH A BUTTON!" Alexander's voice carries from the bathroom at the back of the plane. "A BUTTON, ETHAN! YOU PUSH IT AND EVERYTHING JUST—WHOOOOSH—DISAPPEARS!""I'm aware of how toilets work," Ethan calls back. But there's something in his voice. Something I haven't heard in a while.Excitement.I crack open one eye.Kyle is beside me, stretched out in the cream

Mia's POVThe Maldives looks like someone Photoshopped reality.I know that sounds ridiculous. But seeing it from the air—seeing those impossible rings of turquoise and sapphire and colors that don't have names, seeing the palm trees and the white sand and the tiny islands scattered across the ocean like someone spilled emeralds on blue silk—It doesn't look real."MAMA!" Alexander has his face pressed against the window so hard I'm concerned he's going to leave a permanent imprint. "MAMA, LOOK! LOOK AT THE WATER! IT'S BLUE! IT'S SO BLUE! WHY IS IT SO BLUE?""The water depth and the white sand bottom create light refraction that—" Ethan begins."I DON'T CARE ABOUT REFRACTION! I CARE ABOUT SWIMMING IN IT!""You can't swim in refraction. Refraction is an optical phenomenon—""ETHAN!""Boys." Kyle's voice cuts through. "Look out the window. Be amazed. Stop try

Mia's POVThe golden hour has passed, leaving behind that particular blue that only exists at tropical dusk—not quite night, not quite day, just this suspended moment when the world holds its breath.We're on the deck of our bungalow. The ocean stretches endlessly in every direction, turning from turquoise to navy to something darker, something ancient. The first stars are appearing overhead, hesitant, like they're not sure they're welcome yet.The kids are exhausted.Three hours of snorkeling, two hours of beach time after that, dinner at the cafe where Alexander ate his body weight in "crispy chicken tenders," and then a bath that involved more water ending up on the floor than on any actual child.Now they're in pajamas. Clean, damp-haired, sun-drunk and happy.Madison is curled against my side, Eleanor tucked under her chin. Her eyes are half-closed, but she's fighting it. Fighting sleep like it's the enemy.