Chapter 147 A slim blonde woman.
Mia’s POV
I was about to stand up, but my big belly made it impossible. “Shut up, Kyle.“I said.
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“Please, just hear me out,” he interrupted gently. “You were right that I was confused. Finding out you were the girl from the warehouse…”
I shook my head. “I can’t listen to this anymore, Kyle.”
As if he didn’t hear what I said, he continued, undeterred. “But you were wrong about one thing. I didn’t suddenly start loving you because of that revelation. It just forced me to acknowledge what I’d been suppressing for years.”
This is ridiculous.
“Kyle, shut the fuck up.,” I said, “Stop. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”
Kyle looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he nodded, respecting my boundary. “You’re right. I apologize.” We lapsed into silence again, this one more charged than before. I stared at the elevator doors, willing them to open and rescue me from this increasingly complicated situation.
As if in answer to my silent plea, a loud clanking sound came from the elevator shaft, followed by voices echoing down from above.
“Hello?” a muffled voice called. “Is anyone down there?”
“Yes!” Kyle shouted immediately, jumping to his feet. “We’re trapped on
B3!”
More sounds of movement, then the voice called again, clearer this time. “We’re working on getting the doors open. Are you alright?”
“We’re fine,” Kyle replied. “But my companion is pregnant, so please hurry.”
“Understood, sir. Sit tight, we’ll have you out shortly.”
Relief washed over me. Freedom was coming. I tried to stand, but my legs had stiffened from sitting too long, and I winced at the effort.
Kyle was immediately at my side, offering his hand. “Let me help you,” he said quietly.
I hesitated, then accepted his assistance, allowing him to support my weight as I pushed myself up. His hand was warm and solid around mine, steadying me as I found my balance.
“They’re coming,” he said unnecessarily. “It shouldn’t be long now.”
I nodded, one hand on my lower back as I stretched carefully, trying to ease the stiffness.
The mechanical sounds grew louder, and then with a grinding screech, the elevator doors were forced open. Two maintenance workers in blue uniforms appeared, flashlights illuminating the dim space.
“Mr. Branson?” one recognized Kyle immediately. “Are you folks alright?”
“We’re fine,” Kyle assured them. “Just ready to get out of here.”
“We’ve got a service elevator working on the other side of this level,” the worker explained. “If you’ll follow us, we can get you back upstairs.”
Kyle turned to me. “Ready?”
I nodded, gathering my purse. As we followed the maintenance workers through the darkened basement, Kyle stayed close, occasionally offering his arm when we had to navigate around construction materials or uneven flooring. I accepted his
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Chapter 147 A slim blonderwoman
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assistance, too tired and uncomfortable to maintain my pride.
The service elevator was industrial and bare–bones, but it worked carrying us smoothly back to the main floor of the hospital. As we stepped out into the brightly lit corridor, the contrast with the dim basement was almost jarring.
“I don’t think either of us has given a statement,” Kyle said as the maintenance workers excused themselves. “We should probably talk to hospital management about what happened.”
“You handle it,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”
Kyle studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “At least let me walk you to a taxi.”
I started to protest, then reconsidered. The truth was, I was tired and sore, and the thought of navigating the hospital exit and finding transportation on my own was daunting.
“Fine,” I conceded.
We walked toward the main entrance, Kyle automatically slowing his pace to match mine. I realized I was still wearing his suit jacket and started to shrug it off.
“Keep it for now,” he said. “You can return it another time.”
I nodded, too tired to argue. The jacket was warm, and the hospital corridors were chilly with excessive air conditioning
When we reached the main entrance, Kyle insisted on hailing a taxi himself, speaking to the driver in low tones before opening
the door for me.
“The fare’s taken care of,” he said as I moved to get in.
“That’s not necessary,” I protested.
“Please, Mia,” he said quietly. “Let me do this small thing.”
I sighed, knowing this wasn’t worth fighting over. “Thank you,” I said, settling into the back seat.
Kyle nodded, closing the door carefully. Through the window, I saw him step back, watching as the taxi pulled away from the
curb.
As the hospital receded in the distance, I leaned back against the seat. I still didn’t trust him.
Every time he says the word “love,” I can’t help but feel angry.
The twins shifted again, their movements becoming more pronounced as I relaxed into the seat. Kyle’s sons had responded to their father’s voice and touch today. That was undeniable. Whatever my feelings toward Kyle, I couldn’t ignore the biological connection between him and our children.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text, finally reconnected to service. It was from my mother:
Where are you? Expected you home an ho
I typed a quick response:
ago. Everything okay?
Sorry for the worry. Got stuck in a hospital elevator for a while. On my way home now. All fine.
Her reply was immediate:
Stuck in an elevator?? Are you and the babies alright? Do I need to call someone?
Lave
I smiled at her concern:
We’re all fine. Will explain when I get home. ETA 15 minutes.
I tucked my phone away, gazing out at the city passing by. New York in November was already decorated for the upcoming holidays, strings of lights adorning trees and storefronts despite Thanksgiving still being weeks away.
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The twins would be born in January, arriving in the depths of winter when the city was at its coldest and most stark. But inside our apartment, they would be surrounded by warmth and love.
The taxi pulled up outside my building, and I carefully maneuvered my pregnant body out of the back seat. As I straightened, I caught sight of a familiar figure across the street. A slim blonde woman in large sunglasses despite the overcast day, watching the building with unusual intensity.
I froze, recognition dawning with a surge of cold fear.
Taylor.
She saw me looking and smiled. That same calculated smile I remembered from countless confrontations. She quickly turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner.
She must be Taylor.
My heart pounded as I stared at the spot where she’d been. Was I imagining things? No, it had definitely been her. The same perfect posture, the same sleek blonde hair, the same predatory smile.
But how was this possible? She was supposed to be under strict bail conditions. She should have an ankle monitor, no contact orders for both me and my mother. Had she somehow circumvented these restrictions? Or had they never been properly enforced in the first place?
“Ms. Williams? Are you alright?”
I turned to find our building’s doorman, Eduardo, watching me with concern.
Chapter 148 Bad dreams
