The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 197

Chapter 215 The Kyle-shaped hole

Mia’s POV

“Where to, Mrs. Branson?” the driver asked.

“Branson Industries, please,” I replied, making a sudden decision.

The gleaming skyscraper of Branson Industries dominated the Manhattan skyline. I’d spent three years of my life working here before becoming Mrs. Branson.

“Mrs. Branson! What a lovely surprise,” Linda, Kyle’s longtime executive assistant, exclaimed when I stepped off the elevator at the executive floor. Her eyes immediately went to the twin car seats. “And the babies! ‘Oh, they’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Linda,” I smiled politely. “Who is in charge of the entire company now?”

“Mr. Morton will help make some decisions. I think Mr. Branson and he have coine to some kind of agreement. Mr. Morton is here today.” Linda said.

“Then I was hoping to speak with Morton, if he’s available.” I said.

“Let me check right away.” She bustled off, returning moments later. “He can see you now. Let me help you with one of those carriers.”

Morton rose when we entered, his perpetually serious expression softening slightly at the sight of the twins.

“Mia. This is unexpected,” he said, coming around his desk to help settle the carriers. “How are Alexander and Ethan doing?”

“They’re making good progress,” I replied. “The doctors are pleased.”

He nodded, studying me carefully. “And you? How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” I met his gaze directly. “I went to Kyle’s house today.”

Morton’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He knew why I was here.

“I need to know, Morton. Where is he?”

He sighed, gesturing for me to sit. “Mia-”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” I interrupted. “I know you’re in contact with him. Kyle wouldn’t leave his company without some form of communication plan.”

Morton leaned back in his chair, considering his words carefully. “We have a secure communication channel for urgent business matters only. I don’t know his physical location.”

“Then tell him I was looking for him,” I said. “Tell him I saw the nursery. Tell him his sons came home from the hospital yesterday, and he should have been there.”

Morton’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’ll pass along your message, but Mia… Kyle has made his decision very clear.”

“Why?” I demanded, my voice rising slightly. “What possible reason could he have for abandoning his children?”

“I can’t speak to his motivations,” Morton replied diplomatically.

Ethan stirred in his carrier, making small fussing sounds. I automatically reached to soothe him, running a gentle finger along his cheek until he settled again.

“He’s their father,” I said, more quietly now. “They deserve to know him.”

“I agree,” Morton said.

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“It doesn’t have to be,” I insisted. “Tell Kyle to come home. To meet his sons. Everything else can be figured out later.”

Morton didn’t respond immediately, and in his silence, I read the truth. Kyle wasn’t coming back. No matter what message Morton delivered, no matter how many times I visited the empty house or left unanswered voicemails, Kyle Branson had made his choice.

“I should get the boys home,” I said finally, rising from my chair. “They need to stay on their feeding schedule.”

Morton nodded, standing as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

At the elevator, I turned to him one last time. “If you do speak to Kyle, tell him…” I paused, unsure how to finish. Tell him what? That I miss him? That I’m angry? That his sons have his eyes?

“Just tell him the boys are getting stronger every day,” I said finally. “He should know that much, at least.”

The drive home was quiet except for the occasional soft sounds from the twins. I gazed out the window, watching the city pass by, feeling oddly detached from the bustling life around me.

Kyle was gone. Truly gone. He’d prepared for our future with meticulous care-homes, finances, security-everything except his presence. It was as if he’d erased himself from our lives while ensuring we’d never forget what we were missing.

That night, after settling the twins in their new nursery-beautiful but not as grand as the one Kyle had prepared-I stood at the window watching the lights of the city. My phone sat heavy in my hand, Kyle’s number displayed on the screen.

I pressed call, listening to the familiar ring, expecting the usual voicemail.

To my shock, someone answered.

“Hello?” A female voice, professional and brisk. “Mrs. Branson?”

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