Page 135 of The Viper's Wife

I set my knife next to the shredded magazine pages and reach for a slice of bread from the open plastic bag next to me.

Lacey makes a noncommittal humming sound and too-casually slides her laptop toward me. “Okay, well, what do you think about this one?”

I smear a thick glob of golden butter across the cheapwhite bread—the kind that tastes like delicious, fluffy air—roll up the whole thing like a cigar, and eat half of it in one bite before I shift focus to the laptop screen.

Peeling kitchen cabinets and a fifty-year-old stove jump out at me. Lacey watches my face as she clicks through the listing photos.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but the school system is great.” She holds up her palm before I can protest. “You know, for the ‘future.’”

The dayheleft, Lacey moved in with a sleeping bag under one arm and a backpack under the other, declaring the living room couch as hers. She figured out I was pregnant by the next morning, and I’ve been too exhausted and depressed to make a real effort to convince her otherwise.

Plus, it’s nice that she keeps my pantry filled with my pregnancy craving staples—white bread and fancy butter.

Less nice is that she makes sure I walk around the living room every morning after I gag down the healthy smoothie she packs with fruits and vegetables. And when I’ve been laying on the bed for too long, she wraps me up like a grandma and leads me outside to the balcony to get some sun on my face.

I hate that she’s here—taking care of me. She shouldn’t have to do that for me. She should be fussing over Mei or her sisters. I try to tell her, but she just shushes me and sits me on the couch to watch one of my favorite movies while she hunts for a new place where I can live.

She’s looking at me expectantly. A slight headache forms. I reach for another slice of bread.

“It’s nice,” I finally say.

“You can’t stay here forever, babe. You can go anywhere, even”—she squints at the screen—“Weiser, Idaho.”

It’s as far as I can get from Chicago and New York, while still boasting of a low violent crime rate.

The perfect place to raise my child. All I need is to pull the trigger.

But I don’t want to leave without my baby’s father.

“They’re really interested in the sale,” Lacey says. “I could get plane tickets to visit tomorrow, if you wanted.”

I scratch at a piece of dried glue on one of my collages. “Maybe next week.”

She lays her hand over mine. “I don’t want you to go either,” she says, her voice cracking a bit, pricking me with the reminder that this is hard for her too. “But Nico said you have to, right?”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Nico, Nico, Nico.”

I glare at Lacey.

She glares back. “Look, babe, he sucks. He told you you have to move, and he left you.”

“He was protecting me.”

“Well, now he’s gone. He hasn’t called you or texted you even though you have your”—she gestures at my belly—“futureto worry about.”

I touch my belly. Myfutureshould be here, with Nico. But I think of getting shot at in the restaurant. Giovanni threatening me in my bedroom—threatening my entire family. I’m disposable to these people, and maybe I could deal with that on my own, but I have to think of another life now, no matter how hard it is.

I sigh. “Okay. You’re right.” I force a smile so unconvincing that Lacey winces a little. “Let’s get the plane ticket.”

A knock sounds at the front door.

My heart flies to my throat.Is it him?

Lacey launches to her feet. “Don’t get your hopes up.”She walks to the front door, peeks through the peephole, curses under her breath, and opens it.

Alessia, dressed in a full-length caramel fur coat and pair of giant sunglasses, looking like she’s just finished hosting a charity gala for underprivileged nepo babies, sweeps into the apartment.