Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 42

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 42

The morning sun had barely risen when I settled at my desk, spreading out the preliminary sketches for the children’s center. Steam rose from my coffee cup, curling in the early light as I reviewed my notes from yesterday.

My phone rang, Scarlett’s name flashing across the screen.

“That bastard actually agreed to the divorce?” Scarlett’s voice was surprisingly calm, though I could hear the underlying tension.

“After my mother’s surgery is complete,” I said, reaching for my coffee. “He didn’t even argue. Just said he’d have the papers drawn up.”

“Just like that? No conditions? No threats about the contract?”

“Nothing.” I moved a sketch aside, focusing on the garden layout. “He just… agreed.”

“Well, that’s… unexpected.” A pause, then I heard rustling papers on her end. “Listen, I’m looking at my schedule. I can get you in to see Marcus – you remember my lawyer friend? –

this afternoon.”

“Scarlett-”

“No, hear me out. He specializes in high–profile divorces. Knows exactly how to handle men like Kyle who think they can control everything.”

“I have to focus on the children’s center designs,” I said, tracing a line on my sketch. “The

first draft is due next week, and-”

“And you’re changing the subject.” More rustling. “Oh! Speaking of your work, Jeo was asking about you at the gallery opening yesterday.”

“Scarlett-”

“He mentioned something about collaborating on the hotel’s art installations. Said you’d

discussed some ideas?”

I set my pencil down. “There’s no possibility between Jeo and me. We’re just friends. That’s

all we’ll ever be.”

“Relax,” she chuckled. “I’m just teasing. Though you have to admit, he’s been incredibly

supportive of your career.”

“He’s a good friend,” I emphasized the last word. “And right now, I need to focus on work and Mom’s surgery.”

“About that.” Her voice turned serious. “You really need to talk to Marcus about the

settlement. Medical expenses like your mother’s… they add up quickly.”

I glanced at the stack of hospital bills on my desk. “If it weren’t for her medical bills…”

“Exactly. And let’s be honest–those expenses are nothing to Kyle. The man probably spends more on his watch collection.”

“It just feels…” I trailed off as my tablet chimed with a new message.

“Hold on,” I told Scarlett, opening the message from Catherine.

*Darling, please join me for dinner tonight. 7PM. I miss you. The house feels empty without your visits, and there’s so much we should discuss. -C*

“It’s Catherine,” I explained to Scarlett. “She wants me over for dinner.”

“Kyle’s mother? Are you going?”

I stared at the message, remembering the warmth of Catherine’s kitchen, the way she’d

always treated me like a daughter rather than a contract obligation.

“No,” I said, typing a quick response. “I need to focus on work. The children’s center project needs to be ready by next week.” Also, I don’t want to. Seeing Catherine make me sad, for thinking of Kyle every second.

Dr. Gorgeous’s project.” The smirk was audible in Scarlett’s voice. “How is that going? Sarah from the gallery mentioned she saw you having dinner with him at Le Jardin.”

“It was a business dinner,” I said, pulling Nate’s project folder closer. “We discussed the

design requirements and timeline. That’s all.”

“Uh–huh. And the fact that he’s successful, handsome, and clearly interested in more than just your architectural skills…”

“He’s my mother’s surgeon, Scarlett. Nothing more.”

“Fine, fine.” She paused. “But speaking of the project – how’s it coming along? You’ve been

practically living in that study.”

I looked at the sketches spread across my desk. “The main structure is taking shape. I’m working on integrating healing gardens into the design – spaces where the children can feel connected to nature without feeling exposed.”

“Tell me more,” Scarlett encouraged. “You always light up when you talk about your designs.”

“Well,” I reached for a particular sketch, “the site has these beautiful old oak trees. I’m designing curved pathways that wind between them, creating natural nooks for outdoor therapy sessions. The main building will have floor–to–ceiling windows positioned to capture the best light throughout the day.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Scarlett said softly. “Those kids are lucky to have someone who

thinks so carefully about their needs.”

“They deserve spaces that help them heal,” I said, adjusting a measurement on my drawing.

“Places where they can feel safe but not imprisoned by their treatments.”

“Like you with that mansion?”

I ignored the jab. “The central courtyard will have a water feature – something gentle, not overwhelming. The sound of running water can be very soothing for anxiety.”

3/5 The source of thɪs content is

“Mia,” Scarlett’s voice turned gentle. “Promise me you’ll at least talk to Marcus? You don’t

have to decide anything right away. Just… know your options.”

After hanging up, I turned back to my designs. The morning light had strengthened, illuminating the detailed renderings of garden spaces and therapy rooms. Each element had been carefully considered – the width of hallways to accommodate wheelchairs without

feeling institutional, the height of windows to let children see the gardens from their beds.

Catherine’s reply arrived later: *I understand, dear. But remember, you’re still family to

me, regardless of what happens with Kyle. Call when you’re ready.*

I stared at her message for a moment, thinking of all these three years. Shaking off the memory, I refocused on my work.

The hours melted away as I refined each detail. Mrs. Chen appeared periodically, leaving lunch that grew cold, then dinner that I barely touched.

“Mrs. Branson,” she said firmly around eight o’clock, “you need to eat something. Those designs won’t improve if you make yourself ill.”

I looked up, blinking at the realization that darkness had fallen outside my windows. The

city lights twinkled like earthbound stars; reflecting off my sketches.

“Just a few more adjustments,” I murmured, focusing on the therapy room layouts. Each space needed to feel welcoming but secure, open but protected.

Mrs. Chen sighed but left me to my work, the quiet click of the door marking her departure.

I worked until my vision blurred, until the pencil felt heavy in my hand. The designs were taking shape – not just plans for buildings and gardens, but blueprints for healing. For new beginnings.

My phone buzzed one last time. A message from Nate: *Just reviewed your preliminary concepts. Brilliant work. The integration of therapeutic spaces with natural elements is exactly what we need. Breakfast meeting tomorrow to discuss details?*

I set the phone aside without responding.

Get Over Him

You got to believe in yourself, Mia.

Yes. I had my designs. They would have to be enough.