Page 169 of Wicked Villain

“I’m okay,” I lie.

“This was for the best, Allegra. You know that, right?”

I give her a tentative nod. She guides me to sit on my bed and lowers onto hers, which is directly opposite mine.

“Maurice has set everything up for us. We have a beautiful apartment by the beach. The doctors and everything have been arranged for me, and you… you can do whatever you want. I figured we’d just get there. Then we’ll take it from there.”

“That sounds good. I’ve never had so much freedom, Mama. It feels weird, but in a good way.”

“Good. Things will be awkward at first, but we’ll manage. The only part I don’t like is the new IDs, but that’s just for precautions. Where we’re going, people won’t care about names and the life we left behind. So, you’ll be Allegra, and I will still be Mirella. We have enough money. We can start over. Maurice will take care of us, and I guess life will do the rest.”

“Sounds like we’ve got it all figured out.”

“We do.”

She beams back at me, then a fit of coughs takes her and she grabs her chest. The cough suddenly becomes violent and gravelly.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“Just—just, I just need some water.”

She points to the bottled water on the floor by the side of the bed. I grab it and hand it to her. She takes big gulps, then tries to steady her breathing.

“Have you taken your medication yet?” I just realized I haven’t seen her take any.

A cautious look enters her eyes. “I haven’t taken any.”

“Well, I’ll go get it for you. Surely, it’s about time.”

“Allegra.” She reaches for my hand and holds it. “I was hoping I didn’t have to say anything about this, but I forgot my medication.”

I bolt upright and glare at her.

“Mama, what?”

“Please, don’t panic. It’s going to be fine.” She coughs a little more and sighs. “In the rush to leave, I forgot my medication. It was too late to turn back. I put it in another bag. I must’ve gotten confused. This has been nerve-racking for me, too.”

“Mama, you need that medication.” I remember the doctors telling her it was imperative she had it.

“My dear girl, I have been on the same medication for the last couple of years. Surely, my system would’ve built up a reserve by now. At least, I’m praying for that. I will go straight to the doctors the minute the ship docks in Buenos Aires.”

“That’s three weeks from now. We need another way.”

“Allegra, please don’t worry.” She squeezes my hand. “Please, can we just take this moment to appreciate what we achieved here? I will be fine. Everything will be fine now.”

I glare at her, trying to keep my heart from racing out of my chest. “How are you feeling?”

“My chest is just tight. But that’s normal. Come here. Sit and stop worrying.” She smiles weakly.

Reluctantly, I sit and study her face, wondering if the overly exhausted look is because she hasn’t had her medication. It could be. She hasn’t taken any medication in two days. That can’t be good.

Mama squeezes my hand again. “How about we go down to dinner in a little while and enjoy the company of the others? It’s going to be okay,” she assures me.

I nod, humoring her.

An hour later, we head down to dinner, and it’s nice being around all those people who are a lot of fun. But Mama starts to get sick. She eats, and that sickly look on her worsens.

By the time we get back to the cabin, she’s coughing again and asking for a steam inhaler. Louis, the first mate and the person with some medical training, does his best to help her by getting a bowl of steaming water and a towel to put over her head.