The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 217

Mia's POV

"Uncle Nate!" The boys raced past me as I opened the door, launching themselves at Nate's legs.

He caught them both with practiced ease, crouching down to their level. At his heels were his dogs.

"Well, if it isn't the hair stylists of Manhattan," Nate teased, ruffling both boys' hair. He looked up at me with a sympathetic smile. "How bad is it?"

"See for yourself," I stepped aside as Gas trotted over, showing off his singed patch.

Nate inspected the damage with a professional eye. "Nothing serious. Dr. Riley will fix him up." He glanced at me, taking in my outfit. "Important meeting?"

"Bernard Leblanc is in town. We are going to visit to the Chelsea wellness center today."

He nodded appreciatively. "Go knock 'em dead. We'll handle the dog emergency."

"Boys," I crouched down to their level, fixing them with my serious look. "You are to behave for Uncle Nate. No more experiments, no more makeovers, no more 'improving' anything. Understood?"

"Yes, Mama," they chorused.

I kissed them each on the forehead, breathing in their familiar scent of apple shampoo and that indefinable essence of little boy. "I love you both, even when you're driving me crazy."

"Love you infinity," Alexander replied, our standard farewell.

"Love you infinity plus one," Ethan added, never to be outdone.

As I grabbed my portfolio and headed for the door, I heard Alexander ask Nate, "Can we still show Einstein and Schrödinger how to ride the skateboard?"

I pretended not to hear Nate's laughing response as I closed the door behind me.

The meeting with Bernard went brilliantly. At seventy-two, he was gradually stepping back from the day-to-day operations, transitioning more responsibility to me. The Chelsea project would be entirely under my direction—a state-of-the-art children's hospital with an integrated trauma recovery center.

"Your vision has transformed this firm, Mia," Bernard said as we reviewed the preliminary concepts. "I never imagined when I offered you that position four years ago that we would be here."

I smiled, remembering the terrified new mother who had accepted that opportunity despite having newborn twins and a life in shambles. "I never imagined it either."

After the meeting, I had a working lunch with Camille, reviewing the week ahead. I had a video conference with the Marseille clients tomorrow, a site visit on Wednesday, and meetings with potential investors on Thursday. Friday I was flying to Paris with the boys for two weeks at our apartment there.

"Oh, and Scarlett called," Camille mentioned as she scrolled through her tablet. "She's back from Milan and wants to see the boys tomorrow."

"Add her to the calendar for tomorrow evening," I replied. "The boys miss their Auntie Scar."

Scarlett had reinvented herself after her divorce from Morton two years ago, transforming from corporate wife to social media phenomenon. Her I*******m account, with its perfect blend of luxury lifestyle content and surprisingly authentic commentary, had amassed millions of followers. She traveled constantly now, documenting fashion shows in Milan, art exhibitions in Berlin, and beach retreats in Santorini.

The divorce had shocked everyone. What I can say was that Morton still wore his wedding ring.

I checked my watch—2:45 PM. Time to call the vet about Gas.

"Riley Animal Hospital," a cheerful voice answered.

"Hi, this is Mia Williams. I'm calling about my dog Gas. He was brought in earlier by Nate Pierce."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Williams! Dr. Riley says Gas is fine—just a superficial burn to the fur. No skin damage. He's already back with Dr. Pierce and your boys."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. "Could you put Dr. Pierce on the phone if he's available?"

A moment later, Nate's voice came through. "Your dog will live to see another terrible makeover."

"Thank goodness," I laughed. "How are the boys?"

"Currently building an obstacle course for the dogs in the park. They've recruited three other children and a very confused elderly man with a pug."

"Sounds about right," I said, imagining the scene. "I should be done by four. I can meet you at the park."

"No rush," Nate assured me. "We're having a blast. Finish your work."

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