Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 143

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 143

Dangerous Intersections

Mia’s POV

The conference room in the District Attorney’s office felt colder than it should have. I adjusted my cardigan, pulling it tighter around my expanding belly as I listened to Assistant District Attorney Ramirez lay out the case against my father and Helen.

“The financial trail is quite extensive,” Ramirez explained, clicking through slides of complex diagrams on his presentation. “We’ve tracked funds being siphoned from Sarah Williams‘ accounts through a series of shell companies before ultimately disappearing into offshore holdings in the Cayman Islands and Belize.”

I studied the web of arrows connecting various company names, trying to make sense of it all. Red Box Holdings LLC. Maritime Ventures Group. Sunward Capital Limited. All meaningless names designed to hide the theft of my mother’s fortune.

Ramirez adjusted his glasses. “They were actually quite sophisticated about it. Small amounts moved over extended periods, transactions timed to coincide with market fluctuations to disguise unusual activity.” He clicked to another slide showing a timeline. “It began within two months of your accident.”

“They didn’t even wait for me to die properly,” Mom said with a bitter laugh.

I reached over and squeezed her hand. Ramirez exchanged a look with DA Eleanor Marsh, who had been silently observing from the head of the table.

Marsh said, leaning forward. “Helen has been surprisingly forthcoming since her bail hearing”

“Rats fleeing a sinking ship,” Mom said.

Is Helen really that frank? I find that hard to believe.

Marsh smiled thinly. “Precisely. Helen claims she’d been kept in the dark about many aspects of Richard’s financial dealings, but she’s offering Information about other matters in exchange for consideration during sentencing.”

“We’re taking Helen’s testimony with appropriate skepticism,” Marsh interjected. “She has every motivation to shift blame.”

I nodded. I always felt that things were not that simple.

Robert tapped his pen against his legal pad. “What’s your timeline for trial?”

“We’re pushing for an expedited schedule. With the new evidence, we’ve filed a motion to revoke Taylor’s bail, which will be heard tomorrow morning. We expect she’ll be back in custody by noon.”

“Good.” I couldn’t help the vindictive satisfaction in my voice.

“One more thing,” Marsh said, closing her folder. “Helen mentioned that Kyle Branson has been asking questions about the kidnapping–apparently, he’s hired private investigators to look into it. Have you spoken with him about this?”

I shook my head, surprised. “No. I mean, he knows I found out we were kidnapped together as children, but 1

Dangerous Intersections

haven’t told him about any potential connection to our fathers.”

“You might want to prepare for that conversation,” Marsh advised. “Once these allegations become public record during trial, the press will be all over it. The Branson name still carries significant weight.” Official source is Find_Novel(.)net

“I’ll talk to him,” I said.

As the meeting concluded, Robert stayed behind to coordinate some legal details with Marsh, while Mom and I headed out to find a taxi.

“I’m still not convinced Helen is telling the whole truth,” I said once we were settled in the back seat. “It feels too neat, her suddenly becoming so cooperative.”

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Mom nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I agree. Helen’s always been a survivor. She’s offering just enough to secure herself a deal, but I’d bet there’s more she’s holding back.”

“I’m going to keep digging.” I decided. “Maybe there’s something in those financial records that doesn’t quite add up.”

“Just be careful,” Mom said, placing her hand protectively over mine. “You have more than just yourself to think

about now.”

As if on cue, one of the twins delivered a sharp kick right below my ribs, making me wince.

“Trust me, they won’t let me forget it,” I said, rubbing the spot. “I swear this one’s going to be a soccer player.

Mom smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like his mother. You used to kick me black and blue, especially at night.”

The taxi dropped us at our building, and I spent the rest of the evening trying to distract myself from thoughts of Taylor and my father by working on some preliminary sketches for the Leblanc project. The creative work helped calm my racing mind, and by the time I went to bed, I felt marginally better about everything.

My phone buzzed as I was setting my alarm. A text from Scarlett:

Just heard T’s bail hearing is tomorrow! Morton’s sending his lawyer to observe. That bitch is going DOWN.

I smiled despite myself. Scarlett’s unwavering loyalty was like a fortress around me these days.

Thanks, Scar. I’ll feel better once she’s back behind bars.

She will be! No judge in their right mind would let her stay free after those texts came out. Try to get some sleep! Those nephews of mine need their rest!

Trying. Love you.

Love you more! Will call tomorrow after the hearing!

I set my phone on the nightstand and switched off the lamp. In the darkness, I placed both hands on my belly, feeling the gentle movements of my sons.

“It’s just us now,” I whispered to them. “And I promise, no one will ever hurt you.‘

Dangerous intersections

The next morning dawned cold and bright, sunlight slanting through my bedroom window with determined cheerfulness that belied my anxious nood, I’d slept poorly, my dreams filled with falling sensations and Taylor’s mocking face.

“You look tired,” Mom observed as I shuffled into the kitchen.

“Rough night,” I admitted, gratefully accepting the mug of decaf she handed me. “I kept dreaming about the

stairs.”

Her expression softened with understanding “Want me to come with you to your appointment today?”

I shook my head. “No need. It’s just a quick checkup, and you have that meeting with the forensic accountant.”

“I can reschedule=”

“Mom, really, I’m fine. The hospital is crawling with staff, and besides, Taylor’s bail hearing is this morning. By the time I’m done with Dr. Matthews, Taylor will be back in custody.”

She didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway. “Call me when you’re finished.”

“Promise.”

After breakfast, I spent some time going through emails–mostly updates from Bernard Leblanc about the rehabilitation center project and a list of research materials he thought might be useful. The work focus helped settle my nerves, and by the time I needed to leave for my appointment, I was feeling much more centered.

The November air had a biting edge as I stepped out of the taxi in front of the hospital. I pulled my coat tighter, hurrying toward the main entrance. Dr. Matthews’s office was on the fourth floor of the women’s health wing, a route I’d walked so many times I could navigate it blindfolded.

The hospital’s main lobby was bustling with the usual mid–morning activity–visitors checking in, staff moving purposefully between departments, the low hum of anxious conversation that always permeates medical spaces. I headed for the bank of elevators, joining the small crowd waiting for the next car.

When the doors opened, I carefully maneuvered myself into a corner, acutely aware of how much space my pregnant body occupied these days. An elderly man smiled kindly at me, shifting to give me more room. I nodded my thanks.

By the time it The elevator ascended slowly, stopping at nearly every floor to admit or discharge passengers. By reached the fourth floor, I was eager to escape the confined space. I stepped out, immediately turning left toward the obstetrics department.

The hallway stretched long and white before me, lined with doors to examination rooms and offices. I was checking my phone as I walked, reading a text from Scarlett about Taylor’s hearing, when it happened.

1 heard the squeaking wheels first, then a shout of warning that came too late. I looked up to see a wheelchair careening down the corridor, its elderly occupant clearly not in control as it picked up speed on the slight decline. My body froze–pregnant instinct screaming danger even as my limbs refused to move quickly enough. Then, like a scene from some improbable movie, a familiar figure appeared from a connecting hallway. Kyle’s hand shot out, catching the wheelchair’s handlebar with precision, bringing it to an abrupt but controlled stop Dangerous Intersections.