MIA’S POV
I blinked at Nathan, tilting my head slightly as if trying to figure out if he had lost his mind.
I had to keep acting. Keep pretending. Keep smiling in a way that told him I was nothing more than a stranger who found him amusing at best and pathetic at worst. But deep down, my hands were curled into fists so tightly my nails were digging into my skin.
How dare he?
Nathan Atwood, the same man who once delighted in my suffering, was now standing here acting like he had some grand revelation? That he had suddenly found his heart, his soul, and realized I was the one he loved?
"You must be sick," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.
It was laughable.
Nathan frowned. "Mia—"
I held up a finger, cutting him off. "No, no, I’m serious. Maybe you hit your head somewhere. Or maybe
