The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 412

Mia's POV

"Nate!" I said again, because apparently my vocabulary had shrunk to one word.

He smiled. That same gentle smile.

"Hello, Mia." His voice was warm. Easy. "You look surprised."

"I am surprised. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Morton invited me. Well—technically Grace invited me."

"Right. Of course." I was still processing. "You're back in Paris?"

"I am."

Scarlett had turned around in her seat, her champagne glass paused halfway to her lips. Her eyes moved between us with that particular sharpness. Reading the room.

"Dr. Pierce," she said.

"Mrs. Morton." He smiled at her. "Or should I say Mrs. Morton-Wallace? I heard you and Morton reconciled."

"Just Scarlett is fine." She took a sip of champagne. "And yes. We're giving it another try. Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment."

Morton made a sound beside her. Soft. Could have been laughter. Could have been protest.

"Glutton for love," Morton corrected.

"Same thing," Scarlett said cheerfully.

I looked at Nate. The lines around his eyes had softened.

"You look good," I said.

"Thank you." He gestured vaguely at himself. "Living in Paris agrees with me. I am in Jardin House now."

"Wow." I stopped. Didn't know how to finish.

"It's good," he said simply. "Carol isn't there. She never will be. But everything we were—everything we built together—it's still there. "

His voice was steady. Clear.

My throat tightened. "I'm glad."

"Me too."

Scarlett was watching this exchange like it was a tennis match. Her head turning between us. When Nate looked away to survey the venue, she leaned close to me.

"He seems better," she whispered.

"He does."

"Good." She straightened. "Though I have to say, it's getting crowded around here. Every time I turn around, there's another man from your complicated history showing up."

"Nate is not part of my complicated history."

"He wanted to be."

"No, he didn't" I shook my head. Took another sip of champagne. The bubbles felt sharp against the roof of my mouth.

Nate had moved slightly to greet someone else. An older couple. The woman's hair was silver. Perfectly styled. Her dress was probably worth more than my car.

Madison tugged on my sleeve. "Mia? Is that your friend?"

"Yes, baby. That's Dr. Pierce."

"The one who helped Grandma?"

"That's right."

"He looks nice."

"He is nice."

Alexander had twisted around in his seat. Looking. "Is he a doctor like the wizard doctor?"

"Different kind of doctor. He fixes brains."

"That's cool." Alexander's eyes were wide. "Can he fix Kyle's brain?"

"Kyle's brain is fine, buddy. It's his immune system that's the problem."

"But the immune system is connected to the brain. That's what Ethan said. Because the blood goes everywhere."

"That's true." I touched his shoulder. Gentle. "But sometimes different doctors fix different things."

He nodded. Serious. Like I'd just explained quantum physics.

The string quartet started playing. Not the ceremony music yet. Just background. Something classical. Pachelbel, maybe. Or one of those composers whose names all sounded similar.

People were still arriving. The garden was filling up. Clusters of expensive clothes. Jewelry that caught the light. Voices that carried across the manicured lawn.

"They came," Scarlett said suddenly.

I turned.

And there—walking down the stone path toward our section—were three figures.

Sophie. Thomas. And Kyle.

Sophie was wearing red. Of course she was wearing red. A dress that looked like it had been painted onto her body. Her hair was styled in elaborate waves. She walked with that particular confidence. Like she owned every space she entered.

Thomas walked beside her. His suit was navy. Conservative. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

And Kyle. Kyle was in a black suit. Perfectly tailored. His shirt was crisp white. His tie was dark gray. Simple.

He looked—

He looked good. Better than I'd seen him look in weeks.

His face a least had some color. Not much. But more than the ghostly pallor I'd become used to. The suit fit him properly. Not hanging loose the way his clothes had been.

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