THE LITTLE GIRL ASKED TO SIT WITH A STRANGER—BUT HER MOTHER NEVER EXPECTED THE MAFIA BOSS TO RECOGNIZE HER FACE

tie.

A woman with brown hair.

A girl between them.

Across the top, in careful uneven blue letters:

Our house.

“That is you,” Lily said. “That is Mom. That is me. And that is our house.”

Damen looked at it so long Clara saw his eyes go red around the edges.

He folded it carefully and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Did you draw it before I continue reading …