I Took Three Bullets for the Mafia Boss’s Son. He Called Me His Wife.

My four-year-old daughter walked up to the man everyone feared and announced she was going to marry him. I thought she'd just cost me my job. Then Alessandro Romano laughed. The wealthy widower hadn't welcomed a child into his silent mansion in years. But Sophie wasn't afraid of his tattoos, his sharp orders, or the men who went quiet whenever he entered a room. She only noticed his sad eyes. So she gave him her most precious possession: a little gray pebble. He kept it. I should have been thinking about keeping my job. Instead, I started noticing the meals he saved for me, the stories he read to my daughter, and the way he said my name when no one else was listening. Then Sophie recognized a woman in an old photograph. “Mommy, why does he have Grandma’s picture?” My mother had never mentioned Alessandro Romano. And whatever connected our families had been buried long before we arrived.