The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 363

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Chapter 363 Fancy good

Mia

“This is the best food I’ve ever eaten,” Alexander announced through a mouthful of French toast that left his cheeks sticky with syrup.

“Better than Mama’s pancakes?” Ethan asked with the diplomatic concern of someone who didn’t want to accidentally insult family cooking.

Alexander considered this question with the seriousness it deserved. “Different good,” he decided finally. “Mama’s pancakes are home good. These are fancy good.”

Sophie laughed, the sound like silver wind chimes. “That’s a very sophisticated distinction, mon petit. You understand that different occasions call for different kinds of perfection.”

Meanwhile, Scarlett had somehow convinced the restaurant to accommodate Gas, who lay beside our table with the dignified composure of a dog who belonged in five–star establishments. The waitstaff treated him like an honored guest, providing a crystal bowl of water and even offering him a small portion of plain grilled chicken, which he accepted with gracious politeness.

“You know,” Scarlett said, cutting into her avocado toast with the precision of someone who took food presentation seriously, “this is exactly what I needed. A reminder that life contains beautiful moments, even after terrible things happen.”

“That’s very profound,” Sophie agreed, then turned to me with renewed intensity. “Which reminds me, Mia, you been focusing on therapeutic environments?”

Alexander looked up from his French toast, his face sticky with syrup but his expression serious. Mama’s buildings make people feel better,” he announced with the authority of someone who had seen his mother’s work firsthand. “She showed us pictures. Like hugs, but made of walls.”

“Hugs made of walls,” Sophie repeated thoughtfully. “That’s a beautiful way to describe therapeutic

architecture.”

Madison had been listening to this conversation while carefully arranging berries on her pancakes in a precise geometric pattern. “Will there be a building for kids like me?” she asked quietly. “Kids whose mommies are sick.”

I reached over to smooth Madison’s hair, noting how she leaned into the touch with the automatic trust of a child who had learned to find comfort wherever it was offered.

“There will be,” I said, and felt the certainty of the promise as I spoke it. “There will be buildings designed specifically for children who’ve been through difficult things with their families. Places where they can feel safe while they figure out what comes next.”

Chapter 363 Fancy good

“With art rooms?” Madison asked hopefully.

“With the most beautiful art rooms you can imagine,” Sophie said warmly. “Rooms filled with the kind of supplies that inspire masterpieces, with windows that let in perfect light for painting, with spaces designed specifically for young artists to explore and create.”

Madison’s smile was like sunrise–slow, gentle, and transformative. “I would like that very much.”

“And you help people who don’t have enough money?” Ethan asked Sophie, after she’d described her foundation’s work.

“I try to,” Sophie said gently. “I was very lucky to inherit a lot of money, so I try to use it to help people who haven’t been as fortunate.”

When we finally finished eating, all three children looked like they might fall asleep in their chairs.

“Time to go home,” I said, noting the way Madison’s head was starting to nod and Alexander’s eyes were getting heavy.

“Excellent timing,” Sophie said. “I have a conference call with my foundation board in an hour anyway.”

“And I need to write up this experience for the blog,” Scarlett added. “My readers will never believe I accidentally stumbled into having brunch with a Swiss heiress and my brilliant architect.”

We gathered the children’s new possessions–the drone manual, the first–edition books, the art supplies–along with the various gift boxes and bags that had accumulated throughout our meal. Gas accepted his leash with the patient dignity of a dog who understood that all good things eventually had to end.

The restaurant’s valet service had somehow produced my car without me having to ask, cleaned and gassed up as if I were the kind of person who routinely received such treatment. I tried to tip the valet, but Sophie had apparently already handled all gratuities with the generous efficiency of someone who understood service industry economics.

“This has been wonderful,” I said to both women as we prepared to leave. “Thank you. ”

“For becoming instant friends with each other,” Scarlett interrupted with a grin. “Sophie and I have already made plans to terrorize the fashion industry together. Sustainable luxury with unlimited budgets? We’re going to change the world.”

“One ethically–sourced cashmere sweater at a time,” Sophie agreed solemnly, then broke into laughter. “Actually, that’s not even a joke. The fashion industry could use some disruption from people who care about both beauty and responsibility.”

I watched this friendship bloom in real time, overwhelmed by the speed with which my quiet life was

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