The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 100

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Chapter 100

**Mia’s POV**

I spent the whole night thinking nonsense, so I didn’t sleep well.

A soft whimper from Gas drew my attention. He lay curled in his bed by the window, paws twitching as he chased dream rabbits. I envy Gas. He always gets a good night’s sleep.

My phone screen illuminated softly. It is 6:17 AM now. The date glowed also, October 15th. My “old” wedding anniversary. For the first three years, I always prepared for this day in advance. People can adapt easily. I almost forgot this day.

To be honest, I had hoped that after the divorce, Kyle would disappear from my life completely. That I could never have to think about this man again. But I had underestimated things. Would Kyle give up my babies? And there was the kidnapping thing. Should I tell Kyle?

Sometimes I feel so sad that Kyle and I met so early in life. I was so hopelessly in love with him years after. It seemed like our lives were so intertwined. But, sadly, we were still unable to find happiness.

There were some things that are just not meant to be. Fate had its own plan.

One of the twins shifted, a gentle ripple beneath my ribs that felt almost like a question. The other responded with a sharp kick, making me inhale sharply.

“Always talking to each other, aren’t you?” I murmured, running my palm over the spot where they moved. “At least someone’s communicating clearly in this family.”

Gas stirred at my voice, blinking awake with that particularly concerned expression he’d developed since my pregnancy. His nails clicked softly on the hardwood as he padded over, pressing his cold nose against my hand in greeting.

“I know,” I told him, scratching behind his ears. “Too much thinking, not enough sleeping.”

The morning light strengthened, highlighting dust motes that danced through air still heavy with night’s lingering stillness. Each sparkled like a tiny star, following currents I couldn’t see but somehow felt connected to.

The hardwood floor felt cool beneath my bare feet as I made my way to the bathroom.

The past is the past. I still think about Mrs.Chen. I know I should tell my mother that James‘ wife is probably Mrs. Chen. But I have a feeling that my mother will definitely think that Mrs. Chen is a liar. Mom is angry. I think I should give Mrs. Chen a chance.

The woman with her bright smile and hopeful eyes, standing beside James in a park frozen in time. What had transformed her into Mrs. Chen, keeper of so many secrets?

The kitchen felt too quiet as I made tea, my movements automatic after years of morning routines. The gentle steam carried the scent of jasmine. Mrs. Chen always did this for me.

Gas watched hopefully as I prepared a light breakfast, his tail wagging when I “accidentally” dropped a small piece of toast.

“Not today, buddy,” I told him gently when he followed me to the door. His ears drooped slightly. “Mommy needs to handle this

one alone.”

In the three years of our marriage, Mrs. Chen has had plenty of opportunities to hurt me if she wanted to. But she r should have a chat with her.

Had those moments been real?

Or carefully crafted pieces of a larger deception?

did. So, I

The familiar streets of Kyle’s neighborhood emerged from morning mist like a scene from another life. How many times had I driven this route? As his secretary, his wife, now as… ex–wife.

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1 parked beneath a massive oak tree, its branches creating delicate shadow.

Mrs. Chen was in the front garden, pruning roses with the same careful precision she applied to everything. She wore her usual practical clothes, her movements efficient and practiced.

Watching her, it was hard to reconcile this serene figure with the young woman in those photographs. She looked up suddenly, as if sensing my presence. Our eyes met across the distance, and something shifted in her expression – recognition, resignation, perhaps both.

Well. No point hiding now.

I got out of the car carefully, one hand automatically going to my lower back where the twins‘ weight was starting to strain. Mrs. Chen set down her pruning shears, watching my approach with an unreadable expression.

“You’re pregnant, Mrs. Branson.” She said.

“Call me Mia.” she nodded as I reached her.

“I wondered when you would come,” she said.

“You knew I’d figure it out eventually?”

She nodded, gesturing to a small bench near the roses. “Sit. The babies make standing uncomfortable, yes?”

I settled onto the bench, noting how she positioned herself at a careful distance – close enough for conversation, far enough to seem unthreatening.

“Tell me about James,” I said simply.

She was quiet for a long moment, her hands folded in her lap. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of long–buried truth,

“We met in our hometown, a small city in Indonesia,” she began. Both young, both dreaming of a better life in America. He was… charming. Kind. Or so I thought.”

“What changed?”

“So many things happened. A poor couple had endless arguments. She touched one of the roses gently. “I lost our baby. Carelessness on his part, rushing me down stairs when I was already unstable. The doctors had to remove everything. No more chances for children.”

The simple statement hit harder than expected. One of the twins kicked, and I pressed a hand to the spot automatically.

“James changed after that,” she continued. “Became desperate for money, fs. When I got sick, he agreed to help with the

kidnapping plot. Said it was the only way to pay for my treatment.”

“Did you know?” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. “About Kyle and me?”

“Kyle, yes. You…” She shook her head. “Not until it was too late. By then, James was already…” She trailed off.

“Already what?”

“Gone.” The word fell between us like a stone. “I know it must they killed him to keep him quiet. I never even found his body.”

I studied her face, looking for signs of deception. But there was only old pain in her eyes, the kind that time mi truly erases.

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