“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.”

of all color.

“You saw what happened to the Salieri family,” I realized aloud.

“I saw enough,” she spat back. “I knew that if your enemies ever discovered I was carrying your heirs, those babies wouldn’t be daughters. They’d be leverage. Targets. Weapons.”

The horrific reality was that she was absolutely right. The men I dealt with didn’t respect boundaries.continue reading …