“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.”

slid the Dorchester pharmacy photo across the desk. Luca stared at it. The arrogant swagger drained out of him in real-time, leaving him pale and unmoored.

“Dante… this is impossible,” Luca stammered.

“I buried impossible seven years ago,” I replied, my voice a hollow rasp. “Now impossible has three little girls and buys discounted antibiotics in cash.continue reading …