Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 27

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 27

The foyer felt too small, too warm in the wake of Catherine’s departure. The lingering scent of her herbs mixed with the familiar notes of Kyle’s cologne, creating something heady and strange in the air between us. Kyle stood perfectly still, his usual impeccable appearance slightly disrupted – tie loosened, emerald nail mark stark against his white shirt, a flush rising along his cheekbones.

I studied the intricate patterns in the marble flooring, tracing the swirls with my eyes. Anything to avoid looking at him directly. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the gentle tick of the grandfather clock and

the distant sounds of Mrs. Chen in the kitchen.

“I should…” My voice came out hoarse, unfamiliar. I cleared my throat, trying again. “I need to shower. Get ready for bed.”

“Of course.” His voice was carefully neutral, practiced. Then, unexpectedly: “Your designs for the Havers project.”

I looked up despite myself. “What?”

“They’re exceptional.” Something flickered in his storm–grey eyes. “The integration of historical elements with modern sustainability features. The way you’ve preserved the building’s soul while giving it new life.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It shows real talent. The kind of vision that can’t be taught.”

The praise felt strange, coming from him. After three years of professional indifference, of treating me as nothing more than a convenient secretary who happened to share his bed, why this sudden recognition?

“Thank you,” I managed, already turning toward the stairs. The weight of his gaze followed me. “Goodnight, Kyle.”

“Mia.” His voice stopped me on the third step. “I mean it. You’re… extraordinarily talented.”

I nodded without turning around, not trusting myself to speak. The stairs seemed longer than usual, each step requiring more concentration than it should.

I turned the shower as hot as I could stand it, hoping to wash away the lingering tension of the evening. Steam filled the space as I stepped under the spray, but something felt… different.

Heat bloomed under my skin, spreading through my veins like liquid fire. Each water droplet felt electric

against my sensitized flesh. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to steady myself, but the contrast only heightened the sensation.

Catherine’s potion. It had to be. The spices that had seemed so innocent were now burning through my blood,

making every nerve ending hypersensitive. Even the soft cotton of my robe felt overwhelming against my

heated skin when I finally emerged from the shower.

My reflection in the steamy mirror looked strange – cheeks flushed, eyes too bright. I pressed my hands to my

face, feeling the unnatural warmth radiating from within.

A knock at the bedroom door made me jump. “Mia?”

Kyle’s voice was rougher than usual, stripped of its usual perfect control. When I turned, he stood in the

doorway, his own composure visibly fractured. His pupils were dilated in the dim light, nearly swallowing the

grey of his irises. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the strong column of his throat.

“You feel it too,” I whispered, recognition dawning as I saw the same fever–bright look in his eyes that I’d seen in my reflection.

He took a step forward, then stopped abruptly. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white with restraint.

“What did she give us?”

“I don’t-“The words cut off as another wave of heat rolled through me. The space between us crackled with

something ancient and knowing, like the herbs themselves were weaving some spell in the air.

“Tell me to leave.” His voice was strained, almost pleading. “Tell me now, and I’ll go.”

I should. God help me, I should.

He crossed the room in three long strides. His hand cupped my cheek, and the touch sent electricity sparking noveldrama

through my overwrought nerves. “Mia…” 2

His skin felt as fever–hot as mine where we connected. I could see the pulse pounding in his throat, matching

the rapid beat of my own heart.

“This isn’t real,” I managed to whisper, even as my body swayed toward his. “Just the herbs…”

“No?” His thumb traced my lower lip, the slight touch setting off fireworks under my skin. “Or is it just making

us honest?”

His lips found mine, and coherent thought dissolved. The kiss was different from our usual carefully controlledencounters. This was raw, desperate, fueled by whatever ancient wisdom Catherine had distilled into thatshoulders, needing an anchor in this storm of sensation.