“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.”

my hands in surrender. “I won’t take them. I swear to God.”

She scrutinized my face, desperately searching for the lie. “Promise me.”

“I promise. No custody lawyers. No extraction teams. No armed guards in their living room. But you will let me fund your oncology treatments. Unconditionally.”

Elena closed her eyes. The adrenaline that had been keeping continue reading …