“Please mister, buy this painting so we can buy bread,” three dirty triplets begged. The billionaire mafia boss stared at the canvas, his heart stopping. The woman painted on it was the wife he mourned for years. With shaking hands, he pulled out a black card and whispered, “Take me to her.”

prove you’ve changed!” she hissed.

“I’m not proving anything,” I countered gently. “I’m cauterizing the wound.”

“No!” Tears spilled over her cheeks. “You always say you have it under control right before the floor caves in!”

I cupped her face, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “I know who I was, Elena. I know the terror I caused. But I also know who is continue reading …