The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220 Why he’d left us behind

Mia’s POV

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Thomas stayed the night, as he had increasingly over the past year. There was something comfortable about waking up next to him.

Morning came too quickly, sunlight streaming through the windows I’d forgotten to close. Thomas was already up, preparing coffee in the kitchen with the ease of someone familiar with the space.

“Morning,” he smiled, handing me a steaming mug. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in weeks,” I admitted, accepting the coffee gratefully. “Though I missed the usual 6 AM wake–up call of two small humans jumping on my bed.”

“They’ll be home soon enough,” he reminded me, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Enjoy the peace while it

lasts.”

My phone chimed with a text from my mother: Boys had breakfast, now at park with puppies. Home by noon.

I showed Thomas the message. “See? The calm before the storm.”

He laughed, moving to gather his things. “I should head out–meeting at the gallery at 9. Dinner tomorrow? I’ll

cook”

“Sounds perfect,” I agreed.

After Thomas left, I showered and dressed for the day, enjoying the rare luxury of an uninterrupted morning routine. As I was reviewing emails over a second cup of coffee, a notification from my banking app caught my

attention.

Deposit received: $15,000 KB Trust for AJW/EEW.

The monthly allowance from Kyle. Regular as clockwork for four years, though the amount had increased as the boys grew older. A trust had been established with more money than I could ever spend in my lifetime, but these monthly transfers came separately–for immediate expenses, the accompanying note always said.

In the early days, I’d tried to trace the transfers, hoping they would lead me to Kyle. I’d hired private Investigators, consulted computer experts, even once used Morton’s connections in financial security. Nothing. The money seemed to materialize out of thin air, the trust administered through layers of shell companies and digital barriers that even the best couldn’t penetrate.

I’d driven myself half–crazy those first two years, desperately searching for answers. Why had he left? Where had he gone? How could he walk away from his sons without a backward glance?

Eventually, I’d accepted the painful truth: Kyle didn’t want to be found. Whatever his reasons, he had chosen to erase himself from our lives, leaving only financial support as evidence he’d ever existed. The boys‘ trust funds would ensure they never wanted for anything materially–the best education, opportunities, security–but no amount of money could fill the space where their father should have been.

I closed the banking app with a sigh. At least the boys were still too young to understand the complexity of their situation. They knew other children had dads, but they had so many loving adults in their lives–my mother,

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Chapter 220 Why he’d left us behind

Scarlett, Thomas, Nate–that they hadn’t felt the absence too keenly yet.

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But they were getting older, asking more questions. Soon, vague explanations wouldn’t be enough. Someday, I would have to tell them the whole story or as much of it as I understood myself.

My phone rang, Camille’s name flashing on the screen.

“Good morning,” I answered.

“Morning, Mia. Just confirming your meeting with Mr. Maxwell has been set for Thursday at his estate in Southampton. His assistant was very specific about the time–2 PM sharp. Apparently, Mr. Maxwell doesn’t tolerate lateness.”

“Thursday works,” I confirmed, mentally rearranging my schedule. “Did you get any more information about the project?”

“Just that it’s a complete renovation of his family estate, approximately fifteen acres with a main house, guest houses, and various outbuildings. Budget is essentially unlimited.” Camille paused. “Oh, and his assistant mentioned Mr. Maxwell has been following your work for some time and is particularly interested in your approach to therapeutic environments.”

“Interesting,” I said, making notes. “Can you send over any preliminary information we have on the property? Blueprints, historical data, zoning constraints?”

“Already compiled in your secure drive,” Camille replied efficiently. “And there’s one other thing–Mr. Maxwell requested you come alone. No assistants, no team members.”

I frowned. “That’s unusual.”

“Yes, but his assistant was insistent. Apparently, Mr. Maxwell prefers initial consultations to be one–on–one.”

“Alright,” Lagreed reluctantly. “Please arrange a car for Thursday morning. I’ll want to review the materials thoroughly before the meeting.”

After hanging up, I spent a few minutes looking through Maxwell’s property information. The estate was impressive–originally built in the 1920s, expanded several times, with spectacular ocean views. The main house alone was over 12,000 square feet, with architectural elements that would be challenging but exciting to work with.

Something about the project felt significant, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps it was just Thomas’s reaction to the name, or the unusual request for me to come alone. Whatever it was, I felt a strange mixture of anticipation and unease.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted my thoughts.

“Mama! We’re home!” Alexander’s voice rang through the apartment, followed by the patter of running feet.

“And we brought you something!” Ethan added.

I closed my laptop, pushing thoughts of mysterious clients aside. My sons were home!

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