The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 497

Mia's POV

He took a breath. "Mia."

"Don't." I held up my hand.

"It's a new immunotherapy procedure. CAR-T cell infusion combined with targeted lymphodepletion."

I stared at him.

"Hugo's team has been monitoring my markers," he continued. His voice was steady. Too steady. "My baseline has improved enough that I'm finally eligible. There's a clinical trial at Johns Hopkins—one of the leading researchers in autoimmune disorders. They accepted me three days ago."

"Three days," I said. "You've known for three days."

"Yes."

"Were you going to tell me at all?" My voice cracked. "Or were you just going to disappear into a hospital tomorrow and hope I didn't notice?"

"I was going to tell you tonight."

"Tonight. The night before." I laughed. It sounded wrong. "Twelve hours. Wow. How generous."

"The procedure has a narrow window. The timing—"

"I don't give a shit about the timing!"

The words exploded out of me. Louder than I meant. I didn't care.

"I don't give a shit about your window or your clinical trial or your—your fucking baseline markers!" I was shaking. "You do this every single time. Every time. You make decisions like I don't exist. Like I'm just—what? Background? Something you inform when it's convenient?"

"That's not—"

"What are the odds?"

He paused. "Mia—"

"What. Are. The. Odds."

His jaw tightened. That muscle under his ear. The one that always twitched when he was about to say something I didn't want to hear.

"Seventy-three percent survival rate for the procedure itself. But there are complications—"

"Seventy-three percent." I did the math instantly. Automatically. Like my brain was a machine. "Twenty-seven percent chance you die."

"The long-term success rates are—"

"I'm not asking about long-term!" I screamed. Actually screamed. "I'm asking about tomorrow! I'm asking about whether my kids are going to have a father next week!"

"Our kids."

"Don't." I pointed at him. My hand was trembling. "Don't you dare correct me right now. Don't you fucking dare."

He flinched.

Good.

"You know what?" I was crying now. Ugly crying. Snot and tears and I didn't even try to wipe them. "You're a piece of shit. You know that? You're a fucking piece of shit."

He didn't say anything.

"This whole day—" I gestured wildly at the car, at the garage, at everything. "This whole perfect fucking day. The matching shirts. The cotton candy. You winning that stupid dragon for Madison. That was all—what? Your goodbye?"

His jaw tightened.

"Oh my god." I laughed. It sounded insane. "Oh my god."

"I wanted—"

"Shut up." I held up my hand. "Shut up. I don't want to hear what you wanted. I don't care what you wanted." I pressed my palms against my eyes. "God, I'm so stupid. I'm so fucking stupid."

"Mia—"

"I said shut up!" I screamed.

He shut up.

"I hate you." I said.

"I wanted them to have—"

No.

"Go," I said. "Now."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I turned around and walked to the car. Opened the back door. Looked at my children—my children—sleeping with their faces peaceful and their little hands clutching their new toys.

Madison had the dragon. Alexander had the giant lollipop he'd begged for. Ethan had his new pin collection in a death grip.

I unbuckled Madison first. She stirred.

"Mama?"

"Shh." I lifted her into my arms. She was getting so big. "We're home, baby. Time for bed."

"Where's Daddy?"

My chest hurt.

"Daddy had to go home tonight, sweetheart."

"But I wanted to show him Eleanor's new friend." She held up the dragon sleepily. "The dragon is Eleanor's friend now."

"You can show him later." I pressed my lips to her hair. "I promise."

"Mama. Today was the best day," she murmured against my neck.

I closed my eyes.

"Yeah," I whispered. "It was."

Behind me, I heard footsteps. Walking away.

I didn't turn around.

I gathered my children, one by one. Carried them inside, one by one. Tucked them into bed, one by one.

And then I sat on the bathroom floor. And cried.