“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.”

devastating innocence. “But she wasn’t lost. We had her the whole time.”

I had to grab the windowsill to keep from collapsing. I sank into the chair next to Elena. “You did,” I choked out. “And I thank God every second that you did.”

Sofia evaluated me. “Are you mad at her for running away?”

I looked at Elena. There were a million chaotic, violent emotions continue reading …