The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 173

**Mia's POV**

The next morning I wake feeling more refreshed than I expected, the long sleep having restored some of my depleted energy reserves.

Gas greets me with his usual enthusiasm, his entire body wiggling with joy as if he hasn't seen me in weeks rather than hours. The simple, uncomplicated love of a dog is exactly what I need this morning.

"Gas baby," I murmur, scratching behind his ears, "Mommy loves you too."

In the kitchen, Mom is already preparing breakfast, the scent of coffee and toast filling the air. "You're up early," she comments, eyeing me with mild surprise. "Feeling better?"

"Much," I confirm, accepting the glass of orange juice she offers. "And I've been thinking. I need to get out of this apartment."

She frowns.

"I can't hide forever, Mom," I point out. "Besides, I have a site inspection scheduled at the children's center today. It's important."

"I could call and reschedule," Mom suggests. "I'm sure they'd understand."

"No," I shake my head firmly. "I need this, Mom. I need to feel normal, to do something productive. And inspecting a construction site is hardly a social engagement. I'll be fine."

She studies my face, clearly weighing her concern against my determination. "At least let me arrange for extra security," she says finally. "After Kyle's press conference, there could be photographers or reporters hanging around."

"Fine," I concede, knowing it's a reasonable precaution. "But I'm going. I need to get out of this apartment before I lose my mind."

After breakfast, I spend extra time getting ready, choosing clothes that both accommodate my expanding body and offer some semblance of professional appearance. A loose-fitting black maxi dress topped with an oversized cardigan in deep burgundy, comfortable ankle boots with a low, stable heel, and a wide-brimmed hat that might help obscure my face from any lingering photographers.

I pull my hair back in a simple knot, apply the minimum makeup needed to look presentable, and assess the result in the mirror. I look tired but determined, the dark circles under my eyes mostly concealed, my posture as straight as my pregnant frame allows.

"Ready, Gas?" I ask, clipping on his leash. The children's center is where I first found little Gas, a stray puppy wandering the construction site. It seems fitting to bring him back to see the progress.

He yips excitedly, dancing around my feet as I gather my bag, my tablet, and the folder containing the latest design adjustments for the sensory garden.

Mom is waiting by the door, her expression a mixture of worry and resignation. "Promise me you'll be careful," she says. "Call me if anything happens, anything at all."

"I promise," I assure her, giving her a quick hug. "We'll be fine. Edmund is taking us, right?"

She nods. "He's waiting downstairs. And Robert's arranged for two security personnel to meet you at the site. They'll stay in the background unless needed."

It feels excessive, but after yesterday's media explosion, I understand the precaution. "Thank you," I say sincerely. "I'll be back in a few hours."

The elevator ride to the lobby is uneventful, but as the doors open, I immediately sense something different. Eduardo, usually stationed behind the front desk, is instead positioned near the entrance, engaged in what appears to be a heated conversation with someone outside.

I approach cautiously, Gas walking obediently at my side.

"Eduardo? Is everything alright?"

He turns, relief washing over his face when he sees me. "Ms. Williams, good morning. I was just explaining to these... gentlemen... that this is a private building and they need to move along."

Through the glass doors, I can see three men with cameras, their lenses pointed expectantly toward the entrance. Reporters, or more likely paparazzi, waiting for a glimpse of the woman Kyle Branson publicly declared his intention to win back.

My stomach sinks. Of course they're here. How could I have been naive enough to think otherwise?

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