The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 255

hapter 255 Mommy says

Chapter 255 Mommy says

Mia’s POV

“Mama?” Alexander’s voice drew my attention back to the room. “You’re making that face again.”

I forced myself to smile and turned away from the window. “Just noticing something outside. It’s nothing important.”

Madison was out there alone, watching us. Why did the little girl look so… afraid?

I don’t usually feel any particular aversion toward children. Even difficult ones. Kids are kids–they’re learning, growing, figuring out how the world works. Most behavioral problems stem from adult issues anyway.

But thinking back to how Madison had casually accused my sons at Jeo’s wedding just two days ago, how she’d manipulated the situation with crocodile tears and lies… I simply didn’t have much patience or kindness left for

her.

Still, she was six years old. And she was alone, looking scared.

I sighed, recognizing that I needed to be the adult here.

“Boys, stay right here with your new presents, okay?” I said.

I could see Madison still hiding behind there, though she’d moved to get a better view of us. She looked so small out there, so alone.

I pushed through the doors and walked slowly toward her. Madison spotted me immediately, her body tensing like a rabbit ready to bolt.

“Madison,” I called softly, keeping my voice gentle. “It’s okay. I just want to talk to you.”

She didn’t run, but she didn’t come closer either. Just stood there, partially hidden behind the tree trunk, watching me with those wide blue eyes.

“You can come closer,” I said, stopping about ten feet away so I wouldn’t seem threatening. “I’m not angry with you.”

Slowly, cautiously, Madison stepped out from behind the tree. In the late afternoon light, I could see her more clearly than I had at the preschool. She was wearing an expensive–looking pink dress with matching shoes, her blonde hair perfectly styled in careful curls. But something about her seemed… fragile. Diminished.

“Hi,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” I replied. “Were you watching Alexander and Ethan?”

She nodded, not trying to lie this time.

I studied her face, looking for signs of the manipulative little girl from yesterday. But all I saw was a child who looked lost and maybe a little lonely.

“Madison,” I said carefully, “can I ask you something?”

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Chapter 255

She tensed immediately, that wariness returning. But she nodded.

“At the wedding the other day, and yesterday at school… why did you say things about my boys that weren’t true?”

Her eyes darted away from mine, focusing on the ground. “I don’t know what you mean.‘

“You told everyone that Alexander and Ethan pushed you at the wedding. But that wasn’t what happened, was it?”

Madison’s lower lip began to tremble, but not in the calculated way I’d seen before. This looked real.

“I…” she started, then stopped.

“It’s okay,” I said gently. “You’re not in trouble. I just want to understand.”

“Mommy says…” Madison’s voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her. “Mommy says that sometimes we have to say things that aren’t exactly true if it makes someone we love happy.”

“Your mommy told you to lie?” I said.

“It’s not lying!” Madison said quickly, looking up at me with desperate eyes. “Mommy says it’s not lying if it makes her happy. And I want to make Mommy happy because she’s sad a lot since Daddy died.”

Jesus Christ.

“Madison,” I said softly, crouching down to her level, “lying is lying, even if it makes someone happy. And it’s not your job to make your mommy happy by saying things that aren’t true.”

Her face crumpled. “But if I don’t make Mommy happy, she gets really sad. And when she’s sad, she doesn’t eat dinner with me. She just stays in her room and cries.”

“Sweetie,” I said, keeping my voice gentle, “it’s not your responsibility to take care of your mommy’s feelings. That’s what grown–ups are for.”

“But there aren’t any other grown–ups,” Madison said matter–of–factly. “Just Mommy and me. And Uncle Thomas sometimes, but Mommy says he might go away too if I’m not good enough.”

I took a deep breath.

“Madison, Uncle Thomas isn’t going to leave because you’re not ‘good enough.‘ That’s not how people who care about you work.”

“It’s how Daddy worked,” she said quietly. “Mommy said Daddy got sick because I wasn’t good enough to make him want to stay.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. What kind of mother tells a child that their father’s death was somehow their fault?

“Oh, honey,” I said, fighting back tears. “That’s not true. Your daddy didn’t get sick because of anything you did. When people get sick and die, it’s not because the people who love them weren’t good enough.‘

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Madison looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and for the first time, I saw hope there. Like maybe someone was finally telling her something that made sense.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Really,”

“I confirmed. “You are good enough, Madison. You’ve always been good enough.”

She was quiet for a moment, processing this. Then she said, “Are your boys good enough too?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “Alexander and Ethan are wonderful boys. And they didn’t deserve what happened at school yesterday.”

Madison’s face flushed with shame. “I know,” she said quietly. “I felt bad after. But Mommy said I did the right thing.”

“What did you feel bad about?”

“They seemed really sad.”

“That’s because they’re kind,” I said. “And because I’ve taught them not to hurt people, even when they’re hurt first.”

“I wish…” Madison started, then stopped.

“Madison,” I said carefully, “are you hungry? You look like you might be hungry.”

The change in her was immediate and alarming. Her body went rigid, her eyes darting around as if checking for

surveillance.

“I’m not hungry,” she said quickly. “I’m not hungry at all. Mommy gives me lots of food.”

But even as she said it, I noticed how thin she was. Not just slim–thin. Her arms looked fragile sticking out of her dress sleeves, and there were shadows under her eyes that spoke of exhaustion.

“When did you last eat?” I asked gently.

“This morning,” she said, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “I had… I had a big breakfast.”

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