Raya’s eyes widened, her head nodding frantically as though she were trying to warn Becca. Her gaze darted behind her, but she was too late, feeling large hands shoving her forward. Becca stumbled, the bed catching her fall. She turned and saw Nate looming over her, clad in a pair of oversized sweatpants and T-shirt two sizes too small. His hair stood up straight, a terrifyingly blank expression on his face. She fumbled for her bag. She needed the gun. If she could just get the gun.

“Nate, if you don’t mind…” She waved the knife toward Becca’s bag. He obeyed, snatching it from her.

“Don’t… please,” Becca said, her voice barely a whisper, her entire body trembling. she watched Nate dig through her purse. She held her breath, waiting for him to retrieve the gun.

“We’re good,” Nate said. He held on to the bag but didn’t reveal the weapon. Becca’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure what Nate was doing. All Becca could do was play along.

Mo seemed to revel in this drama. There was nothing Becca hated more than this woman’s goddamn smile. “I hope you know this is not at all how I wanted this to turn out,” Mo said.

Becca didn’t believe her for a second. “Mo, let Raya go. She’s got nothing to do with this. She’s innocent…”

“No one is innocent, and she’s going to stay put until we finish our chat.”

Becca gritted her teeth. “Okay, let’s talk, Maureen,” Becca said, hoping to get a reaction. Her reward was instantaneous. Mo’s eyes narrowed, and she grew very still, her hands clutching the knife tighter in her hands.

“Maureen is dead and buried. That woman was an empty vessel,” Mo said, her clipped diction revealing her Ivy League roots. “I assume you know all about the pathetic weasel I married.”

“Paul seemed like a very decent man. He certainly didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Mo’s ruddy face twisted in an angry sneer. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Sure he’s handsome, but soulless. Paul loved me when we were getting invites to cocktail parties and political functions, when he got to hobnob with Oprah and Spielberg, but he never cared about my work. All he cared about was what people were saying about him. ‘There goes Paul Wilson. Isn’t he a fucking catch because he’s got washboard abs and can balance on a goddamn surfboard?’ He never cared about anyone but himself. When things got hard, he tried to ruin me. I showed him and my father. Nothing can trap me. Not the money or the houses…”

“Even your own child,” Becca said.

“Save your judgment,” Mo snipped. “Your kid was hanging on the streets with us, and you didn’t have a clue. Maybe you don’t like our methods, but we changed lives. Right, Nate?”