“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.”

Every insurance form creates a digital breadcrumb, Dante.”

“I will buy the damn hospital! I’ll pay in untraceable cash!”

“Money from you is never just money! It’s a tracking device!”

Before I could argue, the heavy wooden door creaked open. Mila, the smallest of the triplets, peered out into the darkness, her huge eyes wide with panic. “Mommy?” she whimpered.continue reading …