Chapter 136 Accepted
Mia’s POV
+25 BONUS
I’d been staring at my laptop screen for nearly an hour, cursor blinking at the end of an email I’d drafted, rewritten, and edited at least a dozen times. My acceptance letter to Bernard Leblanc.
A sharp kick near my ribs made me wince. “Easy there,” I murmured, rubbing the spot. “Mom’s trying to make a life decision
here.”
I glanced at the clock. 7:42 AM. Scarlett was probably still asleep after our late night discussion about my father’s arrest. I was happy for my mother. But I woke up earlier than usual anyway.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Mom.
Are you okay, sweetheart? I know it’s early there, but I figured you might be awake processing everything
Mom probably sensed my slight tension. Her intuition is second to none. My thumbs hovered over the screen as I considered how to respond. Finally, I typed:
I’m okay. Working on my acceptance email to Bernard Leblanc right now.
Her response came quickly: That’s wonderful! Trust your instincts, Mia. You’ve always known what you want. You just needed your own permission to pursue it.
Another buzz followed immediately: And don’t worry about things here. I’ve got everything under control.
I believed her. Mom could orchestrate the downfall of the man who’d tried to kill her from a hospital bed. Mom could handle just
about anything.
I turned back to my laptop. My finger hovered over the send button that last moment of doubt creeping in.
I never imagined that I would be living in Paris with my children. Paris is nice. But it’s not New York. Was I being selfish, pursuing a career opportunity in Paris with my babies?
I can’t answer. But I clicked send.
The moment the email disappeared into the digital ether, a wave of relief washed over me. Decision made. Future path set, at least for now. I closed my laptop and pushed myself up from the desk.
My phone buzzed again–probably Mom with more encouragement. But when I checked, it was a news alert:
TAYLOR MATTHEWS TAKEN INTO CUSTODY: Daughter of Helen Porter–Williams being questioned in connection with stepmother’s “accident”
My heart stuttered. I quickly tapped the notification, scanning the brief article that appeared. Few details were available, but authorities were apparently questioning Taylor about her knowledge of the events surrounding my mother’s “accident” and subsequent financial dealings.
Everyone is watching the farce. The media doesn’t want to let Taylor go either. I’m surprised that I don’t think this is a good thing. Taylor likes to manipulate. She’s willing to cross the bottom line that most people won’t even touch. But there are some things I want to figure out for myself.
I sank back onto the edge of the bed, memories flooding my mind.
A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.
“Mia?” Scarlett’s voice, unusually subdued. “Are you awake?”
‘Come in,” I called, setting my phone aside.
Scarlett appeared in the doorway, already dressed in silk loungewear, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. A casual look only she could make seem elegant.
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“You saw the news about Taylor?” she asked, crossing to sit beside me on the bed.
Inodded. “Just now. They’re not saying much.”
Scarlett continued, “What are you going to do about it?”
I looked at her. “Do? What can I do? I’m in Paris, pregnant with twins. The legal system will handle Taylor.”
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Scarlett raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Will it, though?” Scarlett leaned forward, her expression intense. “I think you need to confront her. In person. Before we leave Paris. Make sure she knows she can’t just slither away from this like she has from everything else.”
“Confront her how? She’s in custody in New York.”
“For now.” Scarlett checked something on her phone. “But according to Morton’s contact in D.A., they don’t have enough to hold her yet. She’ll probably be released pending further investigation.”
“I sent the acceptance email,” I said, changing the subject. “To Bernard Leblanc.”
Scarlett’s face lit up. “Mia, that’s fantastic! When do you start?”
“Officially, after the twins are born. But he invited me to collaborate remotely in the meantime, as my schedule allows.”
“Perfect timing,” Scarlett nodded approvingly. “You’ll have a professional focus while preparing for the babies.”
I hesitated, then voiced the thought that had been nagging at me since seeing the news about Taylor. “Scar, I think I need to go back to New York. Soon. Not just for Taylor, but for all of it.”
“Of course.” She squeezed my hand. “We can change our flights. Head back early.”
“You don’t have to cut your trip short-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she interrupted. “I’m not letting you fly across an ocean alone in your condition. Besides, Didn’t you hear the subtext of what I just said?”
That made me smile despite everything. “What about Thomas? And your hubby?”
“Morton has to stay for some business thing, but Thomas will probably want to fly back with us.” She gave me a significant look that I chose to ignore.
I’d already made it clear to Thomas that romantic entanglements weren’t in my immediate future. If Scarlett was still harboring matchmaking hopes, she’d be disappointed.
My phone buzzed with an incoming email–Bernard Leblanc’s rapid response to my acceptance:
Dear Mia,
Excellent news! We are thrilled to welcome you to Leblanc & Associates. I understand your need to return to New York soon, but perhaps we could meet briefly before your departure to discuss initial projects?
Would tomorrow at 10 AM suit you?
Warm regards, Bernard
I showed Scarlett the email. “Guess I should wait one more day before heading back?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “This is too important to rush.” She stood, pacing the room with the restless energy that always accompanied her planning mode. “I’ll have Morton’s assistant look into flights for day after tomorrow. First class, of course. You’ll need the extra space and comfort.”
“Scarlett-”
She shushed me. I knew better than to argue when Scarlett had decided to arrange something. And truthfully, the thought of a
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cramped economy seat for an eight–hour flight didn’t appeal to me at twenty–four weeks pregnant with twins. “Thank you,” I said simply.
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She nodded, already typing rapidly on her phone. “I’ll have everything arranged by lunch. Now, what do you want to do today? Museum? Shopping?”
I laughed at her casual inclusion of the last option. “Just no more shoes, please.”
“Fair enough.” She pocketed her phone. “Guess we can focus on bars?”
I smiled, grateful for her ability to balance serious matters with life’s simple pleasures. “Just let me shower and get dressed.”
Scarlett left to make her calls. The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Scarlett coordinated our early return with ruthless efficiency, somehow managing to secure first–class seats on a direct flight to New York the day after tomorrow, arrange for our luggage to be packed by hotel staff, and reschedule all her remaining Paris appointments within a few hours.
“Thomas is booked on the same flight,” she informed me as we returned to the hotel late that afternoon. “He had to move some meetings around, but apparently returning to New York with us was a priority.”
I chose not to examine the implications of that too closely. “That’s nice of him.”
“He’s a nice guy,” she replied with studied casualness. “Stable. Reliable. Attractive in that serious intellectual way. Financially secure.”
“Scarlett, we’ve been over this,” I sighed.
“I’m just stating facts,” she protested, but the mischievous glint in her eye gave her away. “Anyway, we have dinner with him and Morton tonight at that little bistro near Notre Dame. Last night in Paris should be special.”
“Sounds perfect.”
As Scarlett went to shower and change for dinner, I found myself drawn to the window of my suite, gazing out at the Paris skyline. The city had worked its way into my heart over these past days–its architecture, its energy, its possibilities. The idea of returning with the twins, of building a new life here, was becoming more appealing by the day.
My phone buzzed with a text from my mother:
You coming back tomorrow?
I typed back: Yes, mom. Are you okay?
Better than okay. The evidence is mounting. Richard is trying to claim ignorance, but Helen is talking to save herself. It’s all coming apart for them.
I could almost hear the grim satisfaction in her words.
We’re coming home day after tomorrow, I told her. Accepted the job with Leblanc. Will work remotely until after the twins arrive.
Perfect. So proud of you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you.
I set my phone aside, turning mom’s words over in my mind. “Proud of you.” I really want to hear this simple words for a long
time.
My relationship with my father had always been tinged with a desperate desire to please him, to earn the affection he so readily gave to Taylor and Helen. Now I understood that his withholding had been deliberate.
There was a certain freedom in finally accepting that I would never have his approval, that I had never truly had his love. My father didn’t love me. Admitting it felt like setting down a heavy burden I’d carried for too long.
My hand drifted to my stomach, feeling the reassuring movements of the twins. “You’ll never have to wonder if you’re loved,” I promised them quietly. “Not for a single day.”
Chapter 136 Accepted
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It’s over.
I sat down at the desk to tackle the correspondence that had accumulated during our Paris adventure. Emails from my lawyer about the divorce settlement, from my doctor confirming my next prenatal appointment, from colleagues congratulating me on the Leblanc position (news traveled fast in architectural circles).
And one from Kyle, sent just an hour ago:
Mia,
I’ve attached the initial draft of the trust documents for the twins. My lawyers have structured it as we discussed, with provisions for education, healthcare, and future security. You would have full control of the funds until they reach majority, with oversight from an independent trustee we both approve.
Please review with your attorney. I’m open to any changes you feel are necessary.
I meant what I said earlier about wanting to be involved in their lives. On whatever terms you’re comfortable with.
Kyle
