Mia Grant hadn't eaten much. She was probably still recovering from a serious illness, so her appetite was quite small. At most, she had only taken a single bite of each dish.
'It shouldn't be like this, right?'
His expression soured. He had thought those bastards were taking good care of her…
But looking at her now, everything seemed wrong.
Another dry heave sounded by his ear.
She had already thrown up until there was nothing left.
Yet she still felt nauseous.
Suddenly, the hand resting on her back froze.
A ridiculous thought surfaced, making Yates Donovan forget to move for a long moment.
Mia Grant quickly cleaned herself up, then looked up and met a pair of deep eyes in the mirror.
The man's pupils were dark, staring straight at her reflection, his indifferent gaze holding a bone-chilling coldness.
Mia's hand trembled. She suddenly remembered the man from her dream, the one who had silently and relentlessly plunged a knife into her stomach.
