Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 468

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 468

Kyle’s POV

The key slides into the ignition. Metal on metal. That specific sound of precise German engineering. The engine starts-smooth, quiet, the kind of purr that costs more than most people’s annual salary.

I adjust the rearview mirror.

In the mirror, I can see all three children. Alexander is clutching the pink elephant. Madison has her seatbelt on already—always the first one buckled. Ethan is looking out the window at something I can’t see.

Mia opens the passenger door. The interior light comes on. That soft yellow glow that makes everything look warmer than it is.

She slides in. The leather creaks slightly as she settles into the seat. Her hand reaches for the seatbelt-automatic motion, muscle memory-and I hear the click as it locks into place.

The door closes. The light fades.

I should start driving.

My hand is on the gear shift. Ready to put the car in reverse. But I’m not moving yet because Mia is adjusting something. Her jacket. She’s pulling it off. The fabric rustling. Her arms twisting behind her.

The jacket comes off. She drops it in her lap. Underneath she’s wearing that gray sweater. The one that’s soft. I know it’s soft because earlier when she fell on me in the leaves, when my arm was around her waist, my fingers had pressed against that fabric.

She’s leaning forward now. Adjusting the heating vent. Directing it away from her face.

“Too hot?” I ask.

“A little.”

Her voice is tired. Not the performative tired people do. Real tired. The kind that settles into your bones.

I adjust the temperature down. Two degrees. Then another two.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She leans back. Her head finds the headrest. Tips back slightly. Her eyes close for a second. Then open. She’s looking straight ahead through the windshield at the Tony’s sign. Red neon. Flickering slightly on the left side.

I should drive.

I put the car in reverse. Check all the mirrors—rearview, both sides. My hand on the back of her seat as I turn to look over my shoulder.

The parking lot is nearly empty now. Just a few cars scattered across the spaces. A truck in the far corner.

I back out. Smooth. Slow. The kind of slow that doesn’t jostle passengers.

“DADDY!” Alexander’s voice explodes from the backseat. “DID YOU SEE HOW FAST YOU WON THAT ELEPHANT?”

“Alexander,” Mia says. Not loud. Just his name. But there’s warning in it.

“What?”

“Inside voice.”

“This IS my inside voice!”

“Smaller inside voice.”

“How much smaller?”

“Half.”

Alexander huffs. Dramatic. But when he speaks again, his volume has dropped. “Did you see though? One quarter! ONE! That’s like—that’s like magic or something!”

“Or skill,” Ethan observes from his window seat.

“Or LUCK!” Alexander counters.

“Luck is just probability meeting preparation,” Ethan says.

“What does that even MEAN?”

I’m pulling out of the parking lot now. Onto the main road. The traffic light ahead is green but turning yellow as we approach. I slow down. Let it turn red. Stop smoothly.

In the passenger seat, Mia’s head has tilted to the side. Just slightly. Toward the window. Her eyes are still open. But barely.

The light turns green.

I accelerate. Gentle. The kind of acceleration that doesn’t push you back in your seat. That doesn’t announce itself.

“Daddy?” Madison’s voice. Quieter than Alexander’s. Always quieter.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I sleep with the elephant tonight?”

“Of course.”

“What if it’s too big for my bed?”

“Then the elephant sleeps on the floor next to your bed.”

She considers this. I can see her in the mirror. Her small face serious. Thinking it through.

“Okay,” she decides. “That’s fair.”

Mia shifts in the passenger seat. Her hand comes up. Touches her face. Her fingers pressing against her temple like she’s trying to push away a headache.

“You okay?” I ask. Quiet. Just for her.

“Mhm.”

It’s not really an answer.

I take the next turn. There are two ways to get back to her apartment from here. The highway is faster. Fifteen minutes versus twenty-three on surface streets. But the highway has potholes. Construction. Rough patches that make the ride less smooth.

I take the surface streets.

The car glides through the intersection. Smooth suspension. Premium everything. This is why you pay extra. For the ride that doesn’t announce itself. That doesn’t jostle. That just moves you from point A to point B like you’re floating.

“Ethan,” Alexander whispers. Loud whisper. The kind that’s not really a whisper at all.

“What?”

“Do you think elephants dream?”

“All mammals dream.”

“But what do they dream ABOUT?”

“Probably elephant things.”

“What are elephant things?”

“I don’t know. I’m not an elephant.”

“But if you WERE an elephant-”

“But I’m not.”

Mia’s hand drops from her face. Falls to her lap. Lands there like it’s too heavy to

hold up anymore.

Her eyes close.

I watch in my peripheral vision. The way her lashes rest against her cheek. Dark lashes. Longer than they have any right to be. The kind that used to drive me crazy.

I drive slower.

Not obvious. Just five miles under the speed limit instead of five over.

The children are still talking in the back. Alexander explaining something about elephant memory. Madison asking questions in her quiet way. Ethan correcting facts.

Mia’s breathing has changed.

Her head tips further toward the window. Her cheek almost touching the glass. The vibration from the road must be transferring through. can see it the way the glass moves slightly. Micro-movements. Barely visible but there.

I take a left turn. Slower than necessary. The car banks gently. Smooth.

Mia doesn’t wake.

Her hand slides slightly on her lap. The movement unconscious. Her fingers curling slightly like she’s trying to hold onto something in her sleep.

The streetlights pass overhead. Each one throwing light across her face for a second before it disappears. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. The rhythm of it hypnotic. “Daddy?” Alexander again. Still loud-whispering.

“Yes?”

“Can we ”

I hold up one finger. Just one. Bring it to my lips.

In the rearview mirror, Alexander’s eyes go wide. He looks at Mia. Then back at me.

Understanding dawns on his face.

“Mama’s sleeping?” He whispers. Real whisper this time.

I nod.

“Oh.” He lowers his voice even more. Barely audible now. “Okay.”

Madison has noticed too. She’s leaning forward as much as her seatbelt will allow.

“Is Mama okay?” she whispers.

“She’s tired,” I say. Quiet. Matching their whisper. “That’s all.”

We drive in near silence after that. Just the sound of the engine. The tires on pavement. The occasional whisper from the backseat that gets shushed immediately.

A red light ahead. I slow down even earlier than necessary. Letting the car decelerate naturally. No brake pressure until the very end. Then just the slightest touch to bring us to a complete stop.

Mia doesn’t stir.

Beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

Always has been. But especially like this. Just sleeping in my passenger seat with

her cheek almost touching the window.

We’re on her street now. Two blocks from her apartment building. The familiar route. The one I’ve driven dozens of times in the past weeks.

The one I drove obsessively for four years before that. Watching from a distance. Making sure they were safe. Never letting them see me.

I pull into the parking garage. The familiar turn. Down the ramp. The tire sounds

change. Pavement to concrete. The echo different.

Mia doesn’t wake.

I find a spot close to the elevator. Pull in. Put the car in park. The engine idles for a

moment before I turn it off.

And Mia’s breathing. Soft. Steady.

I sit there. Both hands still on the wheel. Looking at her.

Her sweater has shifted slightly. I don’t know when it happened. During the drive maybe. When she

was moving in her sleep. The hem has ridden up on one side. Not much. Maybe an inch. Maybe two.

But enough that I can see skin. The skin just above her jeans. That space where her

hip bone is. Where the denim waistband sits.

And there are lines.

Stretch marks.

“Daddy?” Alexander’s whisper cuts through.

I look up. Meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Mama’s tummy has lines,” he says. Still whispering but wanting to talk about it.

“See?”

“I see.”

“She says—” He pauses. Thinking. “—she says those are her favorite scars.”