“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.”

realization that everything I knew about the darkest night of my life was a fabricated lie.

A soft chime announced the opening of my private elevator. Nico, my most trusted lieutenant, stepped into the foyer without knocking. He carried a thick manila folder tucked tightly under his arm, his face carved into the careful, neutral mask of a man delivering continue reading …