Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 507

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 507

Small feet on hardwood.

The shuffle of sleep-heavy steps. The creak of the third floorboard from the hallway—the one Alexander always jumps over during the day but forgets about at night.

“Mama?” Alexander’s voice. “Mama, what’s—”

He stops.

Three small figures in the dim light. Alexander in front, dinosaur pajamas twisted, one sock missing, hair flattened on the left side where he’d been sleeping. Ethan just behind him, squinting, one hand braced against the wall like he’s not quite sure he’s awake. Madison at the back.

Alexander’s eyes find Kyle first.

I watch it happen—the flicker of confusion. Daddy’s supposed to be in the hospital. Then something else. His gaze slides past Kyle, down to the puppy in Kyle’s hands.

“Is that…” He’s already moving. Bare feet slap too loudly against the floor. “Is that one of the babies? Why isn’t it—why is it so still?”

“Alexander—”

“It’s not moving.” He’s beside Kyle now, dropping to his knees, face level with Kyle’s hands. “Daddy, it’s not moving.”

“I know, buddy.”

“But—” Alexander’s voice climbs.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Alexander.” I reach for him.

“The towel’s cold.”

Ethan’s voice.

Ethan reaches toward the stack by the couch. “If the puppy’s hypothermic, we’re making it worse. We need—”

He pulls a dry towel free. Unfolds it. Holds it out.

“Here.”

Kyle transfers the puppy. One set of hands to another—quick, careful. Ethan wraps the dry fabric around the tiny body with a precision that makes my throat ache.

“Better,” Ethan murmurs. He’s not talking to us. He’s talking to himself, working through the problem like a math equation. “Warmth first. Then stimulation. Then—”

“Can I help?” Alexander’s voice is smaller now.

“Come here.”

Alexander scrambles closer.

“Give me your hands.”

Alexander holds them out. They’re shaking.

Kyle takes them. Guides them to the puppy’s chest. Positions Alexander’s small fingers against the wet fur.

“Feel that?”

Alexander nods. His bottom lip trembles.

“That’s where the heart is. We’re going to help it beat. Small pushes. Gentle. Like this—”

Kyle demonstrates, his hand over Alexander’s, pressing down in a steady rhythm that almost feels like a song.

“One, two, three, four. You count with me.”

“One,” Alexander whispers. “Two. Three. Four.”

“Good. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

Kyle doesn’t answer.

Gas whines behind me.

I spin back to her. Another contraction—visible now in the rigid line of her body, the way her legs go stiff.

The third puppy is coming.

Madison starts humming.

At first it’s so quiet I think I’m imagining it. A thin thread of sound, barely more than vibration. Then I recognize it.

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

The song she asked for every night when she first came to live with us. The one she needed again and again, until the words wore smooth as river stones.

She walks forward. Slow steps. Eyes fixed on the puppy in her brothers’ hands.

She kneels beside them. Still humming. Still holding Eleanor.

Then she reaches out—carefully, so carefully—and places her small hand on the puppy’s back.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispers. “We’re all here. We’re not going anywhere.”

The puppy doesn’t move.

I turn back to Gas.

My hands know what to do. Catch the puppy. Tear the membrane. Clear the airway.

This one comes out fighting—squirming, crying, furious at being born into a cold, bright world. I clean it. Dry it. Place it beside its siblings.

Three puppies now.

I look back.

All four of them huddled around a puppy that weighs less than a coffee cup. Alexander’s hands still pressing, still counting under his breath, face wet with tears he hasn’t noticed. Ethan holding the towel, adjusting it, brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Madison humming her small song, fingers gentle against the puppy’s fur.

And Kyle.

Watching them. Watching the way they’ve circled this tiny creature, this life that might already be gone. Watching the way they refuse to give up.

“Come on,” Alexander whispers, his voice breaking. “Come on, come on, please—”