The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 222

r 222 This person must have been important to you.

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Chapter 222 This person must have been important to you.

Mia’s POV

My portfolio scattered across the floor, papers sliding In all directions. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The world had narrowed to a single point–the man standing before me.

This face looked so similar to the Kyle I remembered. The same general structure, the same height and build. But as my initial shock subsided, I noticed differences. His hair was several shades lighter than I remembered more brown than the black I had known. His checks were thinner, his cheekbones higher and more angular. There was a scar running along the left side of his jawline that I had never seen before.

Most jarring of all were his eyes. The color was different–hazel instead of Kyle’s intense gray. They held none of the recognition I desperately searched for.

“Kyle,” I whispered, the name slipping from my lips like a prayer, yet also like a curse.

“I’m sorry?” His voice–so similar in timbre but with a slight accent I couldn’t place. Nothing like Kyle’s crisp, authoritative tone.

“I–I apologize,” Istammered, my heart racing. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

He smiled politely, revealing another difference–his teeth were slightly crooked on the bottom, unlike Kyle’s perfect smile.

“No need to apologize. I get that sometimes,” he said. “Jackson Maxwell.” He extended his hand.

I forced myself to step forward, to take his hand, to behave like a professional. His handshake was firm but gentle–not the commanding grip Kyle had always used.

“Mia Williams,” I managed. “I’m sorry about… this.” I gestured to the scattered papers.

“Please, let me help.” He crouched down, gathering the sheets that had slid nearest to him.

I joined him on the floor, my mind racing as I collected my portfolio. How could this be? The resemblance was uncanny, but this wasn’t Kyle. This wasn’t possible.

“These designs are exceptional,” he commented, glancing at one of the sketches before handing it back. “The Milwaukee center, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, struggling to regain my composure. “Thank you.”

We rose simultaneously, and I clutched my portfolio to my chest like a shield.

“Are you alright, Ms. Williams?” he asked, genuine concern in his expression. “You look pale.”

“I’m fi

fine,” I lied. “Just… the resemblance is quite striking.”

He nodded sympathetically. “This person must have been important to you.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself back into professional mode.

“He was,” I said simply. “But that’s in the past. I apologize for my rudeness. This is completely unprofessional

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Chapter 222 This person must have been important to you.

of me.”

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“Not at all,” Maxwell replied. “We’re all human. Shall we sit?” He gestured to a seating area near the windows.

I followed him, grateful for the chance to collect myself. The furniture was elegant but comfortable–plush armchairs positioned to take advantage of the view. I placed my portfolio on the coffee table between us and took a deep breath.

“Now, Mr. Maxwell. I’d like to hear more about your vision for this property. What are you hoping to create here?

He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I want to transform this place into a healing retreat. That’s why I chose you, Ms. Williams”

“What kind of healing are you focusing on?” I asked. “Physical rehabilitation? Emotional recovery? Both?”

“Both,” he confirmed.

I nodded, slipping more firmly into my professional persona with each passing moment. “That aligns perfectly with my design approach. I believe in creating environments that support the whole person.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning forward. “I’ve seen how you incorporate natural elements, how you manipulate light and sound to create calm. The Milwaukee center’s sensory garden particularly impressed me.”

I pulled out my tablet and began making notes. “For a property this size, we could expand that concept significantly. The ocean proximity gives us unique opportunities for sound therapy. And these gardens-“I gestured toward the window, “-are already established enough to provide excellent foundations.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled. “The gardens are original to the property. My grandmother designed them.”

“They’re exquisite,” I said honestly. “We could create outdoor healing spaces that transition seamlessly from the existing landscape–meditation paths, sensory gardens, maybe even a labyrinth.”

“A labyrinth?” he questioned.

“Walking meditation,” I explained. “Simple paths that wind toward a center point. They’ve been used for centuries as tools for contemplation and healing.”

His eyes lit with interest. “I like that idea.”

For the next hour, we discussed the property in detail. He showed me blueprints of the main house and outbuildings, explaining the history of each structure. I shared preliminary thoughts on how the spaces could be transformed the ballroom into a movement therapy studio, the library into a quiet meditation space, the old stables into private therapeutic cabins.

“The east wing would need significant renovation,” he was saying. “The structure is sound, but the interior hasn’t been updated since the 1970s.”

“That gives us a clean slate,” I replied, making notes. “We could incorporate state–of–the–art therapeutic technologies while preserving the historical exterior.”

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Chapter 222 This person must have been important to you.

+25 BONUS

He nodded, then checked his watch. “I’ve kept you longer than intended. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

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