Page 52 of Viparious

For fuck’s sake, I thought he’d grown out of this bullshit. But he spews his shit.

“I think you’re one of two things, a raging fucking sociopath, which is the most likely, or you’re really hurt, and you hate everyone because of that hurt. But that doesn’t make sense either because you don’t hate us, and you have always done whatever we needed. Even when Val was a dumb fuck and you brought Viktor home, you never hurt him because you could see he was struggling.” He moves closer to me and pats my shoulder as he lowers his voice. “Your wife is kind of struggling now and she’s like you, hiding shit from everyone because she thinks it’s a weakness. But she doesn’t have a Vlad who will help her like we do.”

FIFTEEN

Vlad

None of the codes have been changed as I let myself in to what is now Inessa’s house. All the dust sheets have been removed and it looks like we never left.

The flowers on proud display have me moving faster. The card is still beside them like she knew I’d check. There’s no name and just a generic good luck message.Hope comes back knowing it will be for the new building she’s opening. Her business partner will have sent them. There’s no stupid cunt in her life attempting to take my place.

I take the steps two at a time, expecting Inessa to have returned to what used to be our room and she has. It’s something insignificant, but my body relaxes as I see her lying on her side with her hand protectively on her stomach. My queen doesn’t twitch, and little snores come out like a symphony by the most renowned orchestra as I pull the sheets up to her chin. Her skin isn’t blue. Neither are her lips. And her chest is moving.

She’s alive. Her belly still has the small bump. They’re both alive. I keep repeating it as I stand watch over her like a gargoyle. They’re both alive, breathing, warm, and not blue. The windows are closed, and I’ll get them sealed shut so they are never blue.

Kicking my shoes off, I gently lower to lay beside her. I won’t fall asleep; I just need the peace. Being sentry watching her doesn’t provide it and the tightness leaves my chest as my nose brushes the back of her head. I want to ask her a million questions.

Can she feel the baby move? Does it hurt? Has it kicked yet? Is she nauseous or put off by certain smells? But I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t fucking be here and I can’t fucking leave.

Her phone flashes on the nightstand and I stretch over her. If it’s some suka checking in on my wife, I’ll get rid of them. She’ll be happy with my family. And I’m not fucking dead yet, so she can’t replace me. The fucker’s full name is saved in her contacts, and I see red.

Simon Richards:

I hope you like the flowers I sent.

I know it’s late, but I heard you had moved back to the city.

We should get a drink like you promised me.

The smarmy fucking prick isn’t owed anything from my wife. I find some gentleness I don’t possess to stop myself from waking her and demanding to know when the fuck she promised some dickhead a drink. She’s pregnant, carrying my child, no one will ever get near her.

Inessa:

We’ll do it tomorrow. I’ve sent you the location of a secret bar that you’ll never want to leave.

I change screens, going to the program Anastasia created as he clicks the link and I get access to the cunt’s phone. The first and most important thing I do is block my wife’s fucking number before I drain his accounts and lock him out of everything important. Deleting the messages from Inessa’s phone, I lay there ruining the cunt’s life as I post every little thing I can find on the device to everyone he knows.

Porn history? That goes to his mother.

The group chat with his little finance bro friends goes to his employer so they can see the multitude of rape jokes and links shared of people abusing animals. The sick cunts. He doesn’t respond to any of them, but he tried to askmyfucking wife on a date.

I’m about to scrub Inessa’s entire phone to stop anyone else contacting her when her lashes flutter. There’s no fear when she looks at me. It’s sadness that fills her dark eyes and her sleepy croak.

“Why are you here?”

I don’t have an answer. There’s no justification when being in New York is going against the truce with the Albanians.She turns on her back and her brows come together, seeing her phone in my hand. The sadness turns to exasperation and her eyes close as she mumbles, “Obviously, you’re only here because you need something.”

She’s not wrong. I need to know she’s safe and warm. But it’s easier that she assumes some nefarious intent and I lie.

“I was unlinking my card.”

She’ll have the money transferred directly into her account, but I don’t remove my card from the device in case she wants to use it. She takes a deep, controlled breath before swallowing around a lump in her throat. Her voice cracks and lead drops in my stomach.

“Vlad, I can’t do this.”

Stroking her hair out of her face, I massage her scalp and hesitate in wanting to know her thoughts.

“What can’t you do?”

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