The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 167

Mia's POV

The car ride home fast. I can't stop seeing them. Kyle and that woman, even when I close my eyes.

Why am I so angry? Kyle and I are divorced. He's free to see whoever he wants, talk to whoever he wants, laugh with whoever he wants.

"You're awfully quiet," Scarlett raised eyebrow.

When we arrive at my building, Edmund jumps out to open my door.

"I'll come up with you," Scarlett says, not a question but a statement.

"You don't have to. Scar, I know you need to get back to the office. I already felt that I owe you so much." I leaned over and gave her a hug

She just told me she would always be there. My dear Scarlett.

Mom is waiting when we enter the apartment, her expression is a I-told-you-so. Gas bounds over, his entire body wiggling with delight at my return. At least someone is happy to see me.

"How did it go?" Mom asks, watching as I lower myself onto the sofa.

"It didn't. Kyle was in meetings. I didn't see him." I said.

"I told you it was a waste of time," Mom says, "You look exhausted. Tea?"

"Please, mommy."

I hate this. I hate that I still care. After everything he's done.

Could be anyone. A business associate. An investor. A new PR person hired to deal with this media mess.

And most importantly, It doesn't matter anyway.

"Clearly," Scarlett says dryly.

Mom returns with a steaming mug of tea.

"Robert called while you were out," Mom says, settling back into her chair. "He's filing injunctions against the most egregious articles. There should be retractions by tomorrow."

"Will it matter?" I ask. "The damage is already done."

"It's about controlling the narrative going forward," Mom says. "We can't erase what's already been published, but we can make it more difficult for them to continue spreading lies."

Mom insists I move to my bedroom for a proper nap. I don't resist, suddenly bone-tired from the morning's emotional roller coaster. Gas follows, settling at the foot of my bed as I ease beneath the covers.

My mind keeps replaying the image of this morning. That's awful.

I must doze off eventually, because the sound of raised voices pulls me back to consciousness. Mom's voice, firm but controlled. And another voice, deeper. Male.

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