The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 378

Chapter 378 In Which Sophie Does Not Hold Back

Chapter 378 In Which Sophie Does Not Hold Back

Mia’s POV

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The apartment with Sophie in it, as if someone had turned up the saturation on everything. She perched on the edge of my couch like an exotic bird that had mistakenly landed in a suburban living room, her emerald silk blouse catching the afternoon light in ways that made my Target throw pillows look shabby by comparison.

Alexander spotted me first, bouncing on his toes with the kind of manic energy that suggested he’d been sampling Sophie’s confections. His face was dusted with powdered sugar, and there was what looked like raspberry jam on his chin.

“Mama! Look what Sophie made us!” He gestured wildly at the dessert display, nearly knocking over a tower of profiteroles in his enthusiasm.

Ethan stood more sedately beside the counter, but I could see the wonder in his dark eyes as he studied the intricate sugar work on what appeared to be a miniature Eiffel Tower made entirely of spun caramel. “She brought her own chef,” he told me solemnly. “But then she fired him because he used the wrong kind of vanilla.”

“I did not fire Philippe,” Sophie corrected, not looking up from whatever delicate operation she was performing with a pastry bag. “I simply sent him back to Le Bernardin where his talents will be properly appreciated. There is a difference.”

Madison pressed closer to my side, her eyes wide as she took in the chaos. Every available surface in my kitchen had been covered with parchment paper, cooling racks, and more baking equipment than I’d ever seen outside of a professional kitchen. The scent of butter and chocolate and something floral -lavender, maybe-hung thick in the air.

“Thomas helped,” Alexander continued, apparently feeling this was important information. “Sophie taught him how to make something called… um…” He looked to Ethan for help.

“Pâte à choux,” Ethan supplied with careful pronunciation.

“It means cream puff dough,” Madison whispered to me, her voice filled with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts.

Thomas turned from whatever he was doing at the stove, his face flushed from heat and what looked like mild panic. The apron Sophie had apparently conscripted him into wearing was covered in flour and what might have been chocolate, and his usually perfect hair was sticking up in several directions.

“Mia,” he said, and there was something in his voice-relief, maybe, or possibly a cry for help. “How did the visits go?”

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Chapter 378 In Which Sophie Does Not Hold Back

+25 BONUS

Before I could answer, Sophie clapped her hands sharply, the sound echoing off my kitchen walls like a gunshot.

“Non, non, non!” she declared, rounding on Thomas with the fury of a French pastry general whose troops had committed some unforgivable tactical error. “You cannot ask about prison visits while the ganache is setting! The chocolate will sense the negative energy and seize!”

His tone sounded unpleasant. “The chocolate will… sense negative energy?”

“Chocolate is temperamental,” Sophie explained with the patient tone of someone educating a particularly slow child. “Like a beautiful woman or a fine wine or a Swiss bank account. It must be treated with respect and proper timing, or it will punish you for your insolence.”

Alexander giggled, the sound bright and musical in the sugar-scented air. “Sophie says chocolate has feelings!”

“All food has feelings, mon petit,” Sophie said seriously. “This is why American cuisine is so tragically bland. You treat food like fuel instead of like art, like poetry, like…” She gestured vaguely with her pastry bag. “Like a love affair with the universe.”

Ethan had been listening to this. “If food has feelings,” he said slowly, “does that mean it’s sad when we eat it?”

Sophie paused. “An excellent philosophical inquiry. But no, ma petite genius. Food is happiest when it fulfills its destiny. A chocolate éclair does not wish to grow old and stale on a counter-it wishes to bring joy to someone who understands its beauty.”

Madison had been studying the elaborate dessert display. “Did you make all of this today?” she asked quietly.

“yes,” Sophie confirmed. “Though I had help.” She shot a pointed look at Thomas. “Some more helpful than others.”

“Sophie brought her entire kitchen,” Alexander announced, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “In trucks! Two whole trucks!”

I looked around my modest apartment kitchen, trying to figure out how two trucks’ worth of equipment had been crammed into a space I sometimes struggled to share with a toaster oven.

“Where exactly did you put two trucks’ worth of kitchen equipment?”

“Oh, that was the easy part,” Sophie said airily. “Money, ma chère, can solve almost any logistical problem. I simply had your lovely building manager open the community room on the ground floor, and voilà-instant professional kitchen. Though the ventilation system left much to be desired.”

Thomas turned to look at her, . “You rented out the community room?”

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Chapter 378 In Which Sophie Does Not Hold Back

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“Rented implies a temporary arrangement with modest compensation,” Sophie replied. “I bought it.

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I saw Thomas’s breath catch.

“You bought it,” he repeated slowly.

Madison tugged on my sleeve. “Mia,” she whispered, “is Sophie like a fairy godmother?”

“Something like that,” I said finally.

“Fairy godmothers are fictional,” Ethan pointed out with his usual logical precision. “They don’t exist in real life.”

“Ah,” Sophie said, pointing her pastry bag at him like a wand, “but what is real life, mon petit philosopher?”

Ethan considered this with the same serious attention he applied to all philosophical questions. “I think,” he said slowly, “that maybe fairy godmothers are just people with enough money to do magic things.”

Sophie’s laugh was like silver bells being shaken by winter wind. “Exactly! And what is money but stored possibility? I have more stored possibility than any one person should reasonably possess, so I spend it on creating moments of magic for people who deserve them.”

Alexander, who had been following this conversation while systematically working his way through what appeared to be a plate of miniature fruit tarts, suddenly stopped mid-bite. “Sophie, are you going to disappear at midnight like Cinderella’s fairy godmother?”

“Only if I turn into a pumpkin,” Sophie replied solemnly. “Which, given my fondness for rich food and expensive wine, is not entirely impossible.”

Alexander giggled again.

Madison reached out one careful finger to touch the edge of a marzipan rose, her expression filled

with wonder.

“Can I try to make one?” she asked. “A flower like this?”

“Mais oui!” Sophie clapped her hands together. “We shall have a lesson! But first, you must understand the most important rule of French pastry.”

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