The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 165

Mia's POV

Mom studies my face for a long moment, then sighs. "I'll call Edmund. At least he's a security-cleared driver."

"Thank you." I grab my purse and phone, relieved to avoid further argument.

Mom makes the call, her voice clipped as she arranges for Edmund to pick me up immediately. When she hangs up, she turns to me with a stern expression.

"One hour. That's all. Then you come straight back here to rest."

"One hour," I agree, knowing better than to push my luck.

Gas whines as he watches me prepare to leave, clearly unhappy about being left behind.

"Sorry, buddy," I tell him, crouching awkwardly to give him a quick hug. "I'll be back soon. Take care of Grandma for me."

The doorbell rings—Edmund arriving more quickly than I'd expected. Mom gives me one last searching look.

"Be careful," she says quietly. "And call me if you need anything—anything at all."

"I will," I promise, kissing her cheek before heading for the door.

Edmund greets me with professional courtesy, opening the car door and helping me inside before confirming our destination.

"Branson Industries headquarters, please," I tell him, settling back against the leather seat.

As we pull away from the curb, I notice a black SUV parked across the street—part of the security detail Kyle had arranged. It pulls out behind us, maintaining a discreet distance. At least Kyle's security protocols are still functioning, even if his communication skills are currently lacking.

Traffic is mercifully light, allowing us to make good time toward the gleaming skyscraper that houses Branson Industries' global headquarters. I've been there countless times before—as Kyle's secretary, then his wife, always in his shadow. Now ex-wife.

It's no surprise that the news wrote me off as his surrogate, this whole thing is ridiculous in itself.

Let the receptionist try to turn me away. I'd like to see them try.

My phone buzzes with a text from Scarlett:

"Where are you?? Mom called panicking. Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."

I type back a quick reply:

"Just need to talk to Kyle face-to-face. Will be fine. Back home in an hour."

Her response comes immediately:

"OMG you're insane. Hang on, I'll meet you there. DO NOT GO IN ALONE. Paparazzi are camped outside B.I."

I hadn't considered that. Of course the media would be waiting outside Kyle's office building, hoping to catch a statement or a reaction. The last thing I need is to be photographed waddling into Kyle's building looking emotional and desperate—it would feed directly into their narrative.

"We may need to use the service entrance," I tell Edmund, showing him Scarlett's text.

He nods, already adjusting our route. "Ms. Morton informed me of the situation when she called. We'll approach from the parking garage. Security has been alerted to expect us."

Of course Scarlett had thought ahead. I send her another quick text:

"Edmund's taking me through garage entrance. See you inside?"

"On my way," she replies. "DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE until I get there."

As we approach the building, I can see she wasn't exaggerating. A small crowd of photographers and reporters has gathered near the main entrance, cameras at the ready. Edmund smoothly bypasses them, turning into the private parking garage entrance where a security guard steps forward to check his credentials.

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