“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.”

her right.”

My eyes snapped up, dead and cold. “Choose your next words carefully, little brother.”

“I am,” Luca pleaded. “I’m saying this because I love you, and because those three little girls upstairs do not need a cartel war. They need a father who doesn’t burn the city to the ground just because he’s terrified.”

His words gutted my wrath, leaving continue reading …