The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 221

Chapter 221 The Meeting

Mia’s POV

Thursday morning arrived with an unexpected drizzle. I stood by the kitchen window, coffee in hand, watching raindrops trace patterns down the glass. The twins had already left for preschool with my mother, who had insisted on taking them so I could prepare for my important meeting

“It’s just another client,” I reminded myself, though the strange feeling hadn’t left me since I’d first heard Maxwell’s name.

I spent the morning reviewing the property details one last time. The estate was truly magnificent–a sprawling property that had belonged to the Maxwell family for generations. Now apparently owned by a reclusive heir who wanted to transform it into something new while preserving its historical significance.

My phone buzzed with a text from Thomas: Good luck today. Call me after?

I smiled, typing back: Will do. Dinner still on?

His response came immediately: Absolutely. The boys are excited about helping make pasta.

By noon, I was dressed in my standard client–meeting attire–a tailored charcoal suit with a silk blouse, pearl earrings, and the Louboutins that had become my professional armor. The car Camille had arranged arrived precisely at 12:30, giving me ample time to reach Southampton for my 2 PM appointment.

The drive was peaceful, rain giving way to patchy sunlight as we left the city behind. I used the time to center. myself, reviewing my portfolio on my tablet and making mental notes about questions to ask. By the time we turned onto the private road leading to the Maxwell estate, I felt prepared.

The property was even more impressive in person. A long, winding driveway flanked by ancient oak trees led to at magnificent main house–a three–story stone mansion with large windows that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The landscaping was impeccable, with formal gardens stretching out on either side.

The driver pulled up to the circular driveway at the front entrance. “We’ve arrived, Ms. Williams. I’ll wait for you, as instructed.”

“Thank you,” I replied, gathering my portfolio and stepping out.

A woman in a crisp black suit greeted me at the door. “Ms. Williams? I’m Margaret, Mr. Maxwell’s personal assistant. Please come in.”

The foyer was breathtaking–soaring ceilings with intricate moldings, marble floors that echoed with each step, and a crystal chandelier that must have been hanging there since the house was built.

“Mr. Maxwell is quite particular about security,” Margaret explained, leading me to a small anteroom where a man in a suit waited. “I’m afraid you’ll need to leave your phone and any electronic devices here. Standard procedure for all visitors.”

This was unusual, but not unheard of with high–profile clients. I surrendered my phone and tablet, keeping only my portfolio of physical designs and sketches.

“This way, please,” Margaret continued after the security check was complete.

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Chapter 221 The Mooting

+25 BONUS

We walked through what seemed like a maze of hallways, each more beautiful than the last. The house was a designer’s dream–architectural details preserved from different eras, telling the story of generations who had lived within these walls.

“Mr. Maxwell prefers to meet in the solarium,” Margaret explained as we approached a set of double doors at the end of a corridor. “It has the best view of the property.”

She paused before opening the doors. “I should mention–Mr. Maxwell values his privacy above all else. He rarely meets with people personally, so your being here is quite exceptional.”

With that cryptic statement, she opened the doors and gestured for me to enter.

The solarium was stunning–walls of glass overlooking the manicured gardens and the ocean beyond. The space was filled with light, despite the cloudy day, illuminating the rare plants arranged throughout the room.

A man stood with his back to me, gazing out at the view. He was tall, with broad shoulders under a well–tailored suit. His dark hair was cut short, professional. Younger than I had expected from Margaret’s deferential manner.

“Mr. Maxwell will be with you momentarily,” Margaret said, then quietly closed the doors behind me as she left.

I stood awkwardly, portfolio clutched in my hands, wondering if I should speak or wait to be acknowledged.

“The view is spectacular, isn’t it?” The man spoke without turning, his voice deep and somehow familiar. “On clear days, you can see all the way to the horizon, where sky meets ocean. It’s why I chose this room.”

“It’s beautiful,” I agreed. “The natural light alone makes it an incredible space.”

Something about his voice, his stance–it triggered a response in me I couldn’t name. A memory I couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve followed your work for some time, Ms. Williams,” he continued. “Your rehabilitation center in Milwaukee particularly impressed me. The way you incorporated healing elements into the very structure of the building… It was inspired.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That project was especially meaningful to me.”

“Because of your own experience with trauma,” he stated rather than asked. “You understand that healing spaces need to address more than just physical comfort.”

I frowned slightly. I didn’t typically discuss my personal motivations with clients, especially not in initial meetings. “You seem to know quite a bit about me, Mr. Maxwell.”

“I make it a point to research thoroughly before committing to a project of this magnitude,” he replied. There was something in his tone–a careful neutrality that seemed deliberate.

He still hadn’t turned to face me, which was becoming increasingly strange. I took a step forward, professional curiosity overcoming social awkwardness.

“Perhaps you could tell me more about your vision for the property,” I suggested. “What kind of wellness retreat are you hoping to create?”

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