The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 129

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She led me through a glass door into what appeared to be the maitstudio space avast, open area where architects and designers worked at modernist desks. The energy was palpable, a creative hum onderlying the quiet concentration of professionals at work.

At the far end of the studio, a man rose from his desk and walked toward me. Bernard Leblanc was in his early sixties, with silver -streaked dark hair and the kind of face that seemed permanentlyet in thoughtful contemplation. His handshake was firm, his smile genuine.

“Madame Williams,” he greeted me in lightly accented English. Welcome to Leblanc & Associates. Dr. Pierce has told me much about your work.”

“Thank you for meeting with me,” I replied, pleased that my voice came out steady and professional despite my nerves. “I’m a great admirer of your firm’s approach to therapeutic environments”

“Please, come to my office where we can speak more comfortably. He gestured toward a glass–walled space at the corner of the studio. As we walked, he asked, “How are you finding Paris?”

“Beautiful,” I said sincerely. “It’s been an inspiring visit.”

His office, like the rest of the space, balanced historical elements with modern design. The original moldings and fireplace Contrasting with a minimalist desk and ergonomic chairs. Floor–to–ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the Parisian rooftops.

“Please, sit,” he invited, indicating a comfortable chair positioned to accommodate my pregnant state. “Would you like tea, coffee? Water perhaps?”

“Water would be lovely, thank you.”

As he arranged for refreshments, I took the opportunity to glance around his office. The walls featured framed photographs of the firm’s most notable projects, architectural awards, and what appeared to be personal mementos–a child’s drawing, a small sculpture, a faded black and white photograph of what might have been his parents.

“Now,” he said once we were settled with our drinks, “tell me about your interest in therapeutic design.”

I shared my vision for the children’s center, showing him images of the nearly–completed project on my tablet. He asked insightful questions, offered thoughtful observations, and seemed genuinely interested in my perspective.

“You have a natural intuition for how spaces affect emotional states,” he noted, studying a particular design element I’d incorporated to help children feel both protected and free to explore. “This is something that cannot be taught, only developed.”

“Thank you,” I said, warmth spreading through me at the compliment. “That’s very kind.”

“Not kind–accurate.” He smiled. “Now, would you like to see more of our studio? Perhaps meet some of the team?”

The tour was comprehensive, giving me insight into their design process, organizational structure, and company culture. Everyone I met seemed passionate about their work and genuinely happy to be there. That is rare combination in high–pressure creative fields.

As we walked, Bernard shared stories about various projects, explaining the challenges they’d faced and h them. His passion for architecture was infectious, rekindling my own enthusiasm with every anecdote.

ey’d overcome

“I was particularly struck by one of your residential projects,” I mentioned as the tour neared its end. “A house in the 16th arrondissement from about five years ago? The integration of indoor and outdoor spaces was remarkable.”

A curious expression crossed his face. “Ah, yes. The Jardin House. One of our more… unique projects.”

“Unique how?” I asked, intrigued by his tone.

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Chapter 129 Happy Fool

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He seemed to choose his words carefully. “The client had very specific requirements. Exacting, one might say. The design process was… intense.”

“The results were stunning,” I offered.

“Yes,” he agreed, his expression softening. “It remains one of our most innovative residential designs. A shame it has never been properly lived in.”

“Never lived in?” I echoed, surprised. “But it was completed, wasn’t it?”

“Oh yes, to the last detail.” He sighed. “But the circumstances changed before the client could take residence. It stands empty, a perfect house waiting for life to fill it.”

How strange, I thought. Who would commission such a magnificent home only to abandon it?

Before I could ask more questions, Bernard smoothly changed the subject, guiding me back toward the reception area. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation immensely, Madame Williams. Your insight and vision are quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched by his praise. “I’ve learned so much just from this brief visit.”

“Perhaps it need not be so brief.” He reached into his jacket pocket, removing a slim envelope. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

My heart rate picked up. “I’m listening.”

“We are beginning a new project–a rehabilitation center for children recovering from trauma. It would incorporate many of the elements you’ve discussed today. We could use someone with your perspective on the design team.”

I blinked, momentarily speechless. “Are you… offering me a position?”

“A consultancy, to start,” he clarified. “With potential for more permanent arrangement depending on your interest and availability. The details are all here.” He handed me the envelope. “Take some time to consider it. Discuss with your family. There is no rush to decide.”

“I–thank you,” I managed, clutching the envelope as if it might disappear. “This is unexpected, but… very welcome.”

“Excellent.” He smiled warmly. “Now, I believe your driver is waiting. Please, enjoy the rest of your time in Paris. And do let me know if you have any questions about our proposal.”

I floated back to the car in a daze, the envelope safely tucked in my purse. Had that really just happened? Had Bernard Leblanc, one of the most respected architects in therapeutic design, actually offered me a position?

“How did it go, Madame?” Henri asked as he opened the door for me.

“Wonderfully,” I replied, still slightly stunned. “Better than I could have imagined.”

As we drove back to the hotel, I resisted the urge to open the envelope immediately. This was something I wanted to savor, to process fully. And I wanted to share the moment with Scarlett.

My phone buzzed with a text from her:

Meeting over? How did it go??? Need details ASAP!

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