The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 182

Mia's POV

I woke to gray skies and a steady drizzle against my bedroom window.

My dreams had been a chaotic montage of faces—Kyle's desperation, Scarlett's feverish smile, Jeo's unexpected reappearance, and Nate... Nate with his kind eyes and careful distance, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve.

Strange dreams.

My phone chimed with a text message, and I reached for it reluctantly, half-expecting it to be Kyle with some pathetic apology. Instead, it was Scarlett:

Fever broke this morning. Morton insisting I stay in bed anyway.

I smiled despite myself, relieved that her condition was improving. I typed back:

Dictator Morton sounds like exactly what you need right now. Rest. I'll check on you later.

Setting the phone aside, I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, taking a moment to find my balance.

Gas immediately hopped down and stretched.

As I picked at my breakfast, my thoughts returned to the video call with Scarlett and Jeo. The revelation that Jeo and Nate had become friends had caught me completely off guard.

Why hadn't Nate ever mentioned it? Why hadn't he mentioned anything about maintaining connections in New York despite his abrupt departure? And why, despite his apparent ongoing relationships with people in my life, did he continue to keep me at arm's length?

That last phone call echoed in my memory. Go to Paris... The sooner the better...

Something connected to his insistence that I leave New York?

The pieces didn't fit together, and the more I tried to force them, the more confused I became.

"You're thinking very loudly," Mom observed, clearing my half-eaten breakfast away.

"Sorry," I said, offering a weak smile. "Just trying to make sense of some things."

"Anything I can help with?"

I hesitated. Mom knew about Nate, of course, her doctor. But I wasn't sure where to begin untangling it all.

Before I could overthink it, I hit the call button on his contact.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Just as I expected it to go to voicemail, the line connected.

"Mia." Nate's voice was guarded.

"So is your continued insistence that I'm in some unspecified danger," I replied. "What's going on, Nate? Why won't you be straight with me?"

There was a pause, the silence stretching uncomfortably. "It's complicated," he said finally.

"Then uncomplicate it for me," I countered. "I deserve to know why you think I need to flee New York."

Another pause.

"Are you serious right now? This isn't a spy movie, Nate."

"Nate," I said finally, my patience wearing thin, "if you know something that affects me and my children, you have a moral obligation to tell me. Not in riddles, not in vague warnings, but directly."