Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9: BIANCA

I woke to an empty bed as usual. Matthew had been sleeping in his office ever since he and Mia started that ridiculous bucket list, he claimed it was because of pack business that kept him up late and he did not want to bother me, but I knew better. He was avoiding me, and being emotionally loyal to Mia.

I dressed slowly, my side still tender from yesterday’s collision with Mia.

The sound of laughter caught my attention as I headed to the kitchen.

I paused at the kitchen doorway, and right there, under the glittering morning rays was Mia, looking like she just hit it big. And in front of her, were all her favourite meals that Matthew had painstakingly learned how to make for her. I recognized it, because I had watched Matthew fawn over her for the past thirteen months.

He’d never learned my favorite breakfast. In four years of marriage, he’d never once asked.

Matthew stood at the stove, flipping more bacon. And Theo sat beside Mia with a small plate of fish in front of him, his face frowning in concentration as he took time to debone the fish for Mia.

The little prince I had gone through so much to give birth to and raise was serving another woman.

“Is this one okay, Aunty Mia?” Theo held up a piece of fish, examining it from every angle. “I checked it three times. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Perfect, sweetheart. You’re such a good boy.. Your parents raised you right.”

I must have made a sound because three heads turned toward me at the same time. Matthew’s expression went cold the instant he saw me, a telltale sign that he was still angry with me about yesterday. Theo looked away as soon as he saw me, frowning as well.

Only Mia met my gaze directly, and in her eyes, I saw triumph masked as sympathy.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning,” Matthew replied curtly, turning back to the stove.

“Hi, Mama,” Theo mumbled, not looking up.

“Good morning, Bianca,” Mia said softly. “I hope you slept well. You seemed so upset last night.”

The implication was clear: I was the problem.

I moved to the coffee maker, needing something to do with my hands, As I poured, I noticed Mia’s hand tremor slightly as she lifted her fork.

“Are you okay, Aunty Mia?” His small face creased with worry. “Do you need water? Or your medicine?”

“I’m alright, sweetie. Just a little tired.” She set down her fork with pain like it was hurting her. “The illness makes mornings hard for me sometimes.”

I took a sip of black coffee, letting the bitterness ground me, and was about to leave the kitchen when Theo’s voice stopped me cold.

“Mummy, why won’t you heal Aunty Mia?”

I turned slowly, my coffee cup still raised hallway to my lips.

“You’re the cure,” he continued, his voice accusing me.

“Daddy explained it. You’re a doctor. You can heal people. But you won’t heal her. I hate wicked people, and you always say not

to be cruel. You taught me that doctors save lives, that’s what you do. But you’re refusing to do your job.”

The coffee cup almost slipped from my hand. I set it down carefully on the counter, my mind reeling. When did Matthew explain this to Theo? When had he poisoned our son against me.

Matthew had gone completely still at the stove, his back rigid. He didn’t correct Theo.

“Oh no, Theo, please.” Mia’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “Please don’t be angry at your mother. This isn’t her fault.”

Mia continued, speaking. “This morning, I was coughing up blood–you saw it, sweetheart? It was scary, and you asked if the doctors had found the cure yet. I only explained what the doctors told me about the treatment, about what would be needed. I never meant to turn you against your mother. Never. That was never my intention.”

But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t turn around. Because if I did, if I saw his face, I might break completely.

“I made reservations for tomorrow night,” he continued, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone he rarely used with me anymore.

“Just us. That Italian place you like. We can talk properly, away from everything else. Figure this out together.”

His hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that would have made me melt a year ago. Six months ago. Maybe even last week.

“But please, Bianca…” His voice was almost pleading now. “Help Mia. Do this one thing. Show Theo what it means to be a

healer, to put others first. Show him the mother I know you are.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple.

It was a good performance. Almost as good as Mia’s.

I pulled away from his touch, opened my car door, and slid into the driver’s seat. Through the window, I could see him standing there, his expression shifting from tender to frustrated as he realized his tactics weren’t working.

His lips moved, he was about to say something but I started the engine, put the car in reverse, and drove away without looking back.

In my rearview mirror, I saw him standing in the driveway, his hand still raised as if he could call me back with a gesture.

But he couldn’t and I didn’t look again.

I barely made it to the hospital parking lot before my phone buzzed in the cup holder.

I shouldn’t have looked. I knew better. But my thumb moved on autopilot, clicking the notification before I could stop myself.

The image loaded, and my breath caught in my throat.