“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.”

three chests rising and falling safely did she slump back into the pillows.

“I meant every syllable,” I whispered, stepping closer but keeping a safe distance. “No lawyers. No intimidation tactics. They are yours.”

Elena studied my face, peeling back the layers of my tailored suit to examine the rot underneath. “Your world doesn’t just evaporate because continue reading …