The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126 A Gift

Mia’s POV

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The Louvre was everything the guidebooks promised and more. I visited once when I was very young. But I don’t remember anything now. It’s like a brand new visit.

I was particularly drawn to the Greek antiquities, something about their weathered permanence speaking to me in ways the more flamboyant Renaissance paintings didn’t. The twins seemed to appreciate the art as well, shifting and kicking whenever we stopped for a particularly detailed explanation.

“They’re already developing excellent taste,” Scarlett observed when I shared this with her. “Morton will approve.”

I can’t help but stand in front of these collections for a long time. Many of them have passed through thousands of years. How many people had seen them before? People always feel that the sadness they have experienced is hard to let go, but in front of them, it is just a flash in the pan.

After the museum, we enjoyed a light lunch at a café overlooking the Seine, watching tourists and locals pass by in the autumn sunshine. Despite the physical toll of all the walking, I felt lighter somehow, more present than I had in weeks. There was something about Paris–its beauty, its history, its sheer French–ness–that made my personal dramas seem smaller, more manageable.

“What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?” I asked as we finished our meal, enjoying the simple pleasure of people–watching.

“Nothing,” Scarlett replied, surprising me. At my raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “Doctor’s orders, remember? No overexertion. You need rest time built into each day.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Did you and Morton create a spreadsheet for that too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, then added with perfect seriousness, “It’s a full–color chart with activity zones clearly delineated by trimester.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I were.” But the fondness in her voice belied any real annoyance. “So, free afternoon for you. I, on the other hand, have a meeting with Baptiste about tomorrow’s itinerary. Apparently there’s a conflict with our dinner reservation and the light show at the Eiffel Tower that requires his personal intervention.”

“The trials of international socialites,” I teased. “However will you cope?”

“With grace and extremely expensive champagne,” she replied primly. “Morton’s joining me for the meeting, then we have drinks with some business associates of his afterward. Will you be okay on your own for a few hours?”

“I’ll survive somehow,” I assured her, the prospect of quiet solitude actually quite appealing after the morning’s sensory overload. “Maybe I’ll take a nap. Grow some babies. The usual.”

“Perfect.” She signaled for the check. “Henri will take you back to the hotel whenever you’re ready. Just text if you need anything–and I mean anything. If you suddenly develop a craving for authentic Belgian chocolate at four in the morning, I w make it happen.”

“I know you would,” I said, and meant it. Scarlett’s loyalty might express itself in unusual ways, but it was absolute and unwavering.

Back at the hotel, I did actually nap. When I woke, the suite was quiet, golden afternoon light slanting through the windows. I felt strangely energized. I decided it was time to find some food for myself. Scarlett had not allowed me to go far. Perhaps the garden café from yesterday would be a good choice.

I ordered a lot, in my not–quite–authentic French, mixed with English. I think many people in the garden café this afternoon saw a pregnant woman eating and drinking. I was very satisfied. So were the babies. I enjoyed the sunshine for a while. I didn’t go back until the sun had completely set.

Back in the suite, I found Scarlett already returned, surrounded by shopping bags and talking animatedly on her phone. She

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Chapter 126 A Gift

+25 BONUS

waved as I entered, mouthing one minute while continuing what appeared to be an intense negotiation about tomorrow’s dinner reservation.

“I took advantage of her distraction to slip into my room, eager for moment of quiet before what would undoubtedly be a comprehensive interrogation about where I’d been.

—

a small box, elegantly wrapped As I entered my bedroom, I noticed something on my pillow that hadn’t been there when I left- in simple cream paper with a gold ribbon. There was no card, no indication of who had left it or how it had arrived in my locked

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