The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 203

Kyle's POV

Mia.

She was alive.

The maintenance door opened into a utility closet adjacent to the main room. Through a narrow ventilation grille, I could see part of the penthouse interior—plush furnishings, expensive artwork. A man's voice continued speaking, the tone cultured and cold.

"...the Branson bloodline ends today."

I'd heard enough.

The door burst open under my shoulder, splinters flying as the reinforced wood gave way. The scene unfolded before me with crystal clarity—Mia, bound and terrified. Charles Porter, gun raised. Nate Pierce, lunging forward too late.

My first shot took Porter in the shoulder, spinning him away from Mia. The second caught him in the upper chest, not immediately fatal but debilitating.

Our eyes locked across the room—his filled with shock and hatred, mine with the cold certainty of a man protecting what was his.

"Kyle," Mia gasped, her voice breaking through the ringing in my ears.

Porter recovered with surprising speed, raising his weapon toward me despite his injuries. We now stood in perfect deadlock, guns aimed at each other's hearts.

"Branson," he snarled, blood staining his immaculate shirt. "How fitting that you should be here to witness this."

"Drop the gun, Porter," I commanded, my voice impossibly calm despite the rage coursing through me. "It's over."

His laugh was wet with blood. "Over? This has barely begun. Do you know how long I've waited for this moment? To see you experience the same loss I did?"

"I know exactly who you are," I replied. "I know about Diana. About Carol. About everything."

Porter's eyes widened fractionally. "Then you understand why this must happen. An eye for an eye."

"Your quarrel was with my father," I said, not lowering my weapon. "He's already paid his price."

"Not enough," Porter spat. "Your family destroyed everything I loved. Now you'll watch as I do the same to you."

He shifted his aim toward Mia, and something in me snapped.

"Don't," I warned, taking a step forward.

"Stop right there," Porter commanded. "Or she dies now."

I froze, calculating distances, angles, probabilities. He was wounded but still dangerous. The distance between us was too great for me to reach him before he could pull the trigger.

"Nate," Porter called, not taking his eyes off me. "Secure Branson."

Pierce hesitated, his expression conflicted.

"Now, Nate!" Porter demanded. "Remember why we're here. Remember Carol."

"Carol wouldn't want this," Pierce responded quietly. "She wouldn't want more innocent deaths."

Porter's face contorted with rage. "Then you're as weak as she was. Guards!"

The door behind me burst open as Porter's security detail flooded in, weapons raised. I was forced to divide my attention, my chances of saving Mia diminishing with each passing second.

"Drop your weapon, Branson," Porter ordered, victory lacing his words. "Or my men will cut you down where you stand."

I looked at Mia, our eyes meeting across the chaos. In that moment, a wordless understanding passed between us. I saw fear in her eyes, yes—but also determination. Trust.

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