The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21 His Regret

*Kyle’s POV**

I stood outside our bedroom door, my forehead pressed against the cool wood, listening to Mia’s muffled sobs Each broken sound pierced something deep in my chest, an unfamiliar ache I couldn’t name. My hand rested on the doorknob, neither turning it nor letting go.

Time stretched endlessly in that dark hallway. Minutes? Hours? I couldn’t tell. I only knew I couldn’t leave until her crying stopped. Until I was sure she’d fallen asleep.

When silence finally fell, I waited longer still. Just to be certain.

The door opened soundlessly under my hand. Moonlight spilled through the windows, painting silver trails across Mia’s tear- stained cheeks. She looked small in our massive bed, curled tight around herself as if trying to hold something together.

Moving closer, I studied Mia’s sleeping face. Even unconscious, she didn’t look peaceful. Her brow was furrowed, lips trembling slightly. Dried tears glittered on her lashes.

Had she always looked this fragile? This broken? How long had I been blind to what was right in front of me?

Three years of marriage. Three years of her quiet presence, her gentle smiles, her unwavering… love?

*“I really did love you. Even when you were cruel.“*

Something twisted in my gut. Sharp. Painful. The need for a drink suddenly overwhelmed me.

I switched off the bedside lamp and retreated, unable to bear the sight of her pain any longer. The house felt too quiet, too empty as I made my way to my study. The bottle of Macallan 25 called to me from the bar cabinet – a gift from some business associate or another.

The first glass burned. The second numbed. By the third, memories began to surface, unwanted and uncontrolled.

Mia on our wedding day, in that pale blue dress she’d thought I hadn’t noticed. The hope in her eyes when she’d signed our contract. The way that hope had dimmed, day by day, month by month, as I’d systematically crushed every tender feeling she’d

offered.

*“I wish I’d never seen you that day. In high school…“*

I poured another drink. High school. Had she really loved me even then?

Taylor. My savior from that childhood kidnapping. The brave girl who’d protected me in the darkness. Who’d earned my undying gratitude, my devotion, my…

Love?

The glass froze halfway to my lips.

Had it been love? Or obligation? Gratitude mixed with childhood trauma until I couldn’t separate the two?

The pendant flashed in my mind – the one I’d given my protector all those years ago. How it sat wrong against Taylor’s throat. How her stories never quite matched my memories. How her touch had started feeling… hollow.

But Mia…When she said, “I loved you so much it broke me.”

The glass shattered in my grip. Scotch and blood mingled on my desk, staining important documents I suddenly couldn’t care less about. 1

Dawn crept in through the study windows, finding me still sitting there. I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t sleep. Not with Mia’s words playing on endless loop in my head. Not with this new, uncomfortable awareness scratching at the edges of my consciousness.

Mrs. Chen, our housekeeper, knocked softly. “Mr. Branson? Breakfast is ready.” 1

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Chapter 21 His Regret

“How is she?” The question came out rougher than intended.

“Still sleeping, sir. She seemed… distressed during the night. Called out several times.”

+25 BONUS

My jaw clenched. “Keep me updated on her condition. Every hour. And make sure she eats something when she wakes up.”

“Of course, sir.” A pause. “And the… other instructions?”

Ah yes. The surveillance I’d ordered after finding her medical reports. After suspecting her of… what? Infidelity? The very thought seemed absurd now.

“Discontinued,” I said shortly. “All of them.”

I couldn’t stay in this house. Not with Mia sleeping upstairs. Not with these unfamiliar emotions threatening to overwhelm my carefully constructed control.

The office. Work. That’s what I needed. Numbers don’t lie. Contracts don’t feel. Business deals don’t make you question everything you thought you knew about love and obligation.

“Sir?” Mrs. Chen’s voice stopped me at the door. “If I may… Mrs. Branson, she’s a good person. Better than most. The way she treats the staff, how she remembers everyone’s birthdays, how she helps Kevin’s daughter with her art homework…” She trailed off, clearly worried she’d overstepped.

“Take care of her,” I managed. “Whatever she needs.”

My office offered no sanctuary from these thoughts. Every surface held memories of Mia’s quiet efficiency. Her small kindnesses. The way she’d managed my life so seamlessly I’d barely noticed her presence.

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