The Mafia Boss Hunted Down The Woman Who Left Him — Then Three Little Faces Revealed The Family Secret He Never Knew

PART 2

“How old are they?” Weston asked.

“None of your business.”

“It became my business the moment I saw his eyes.”

Odalys’s face slowly changed as she understood.

“Owen, Nadia, and Priya will be four in January,” Wren said.

Four in January. The divorce had been finalized in April, four years earlier. Weston remembered every detail — the quiet courthouse office, Wren’s shaking signature.

She had asked him one last time, “Is there someone else?”

He had wanted to tell her the truth — that men connected to the Marchetti syndicate had photographed her, that his grandfather had placed the pictures on his desk and warned him that love made men predictable.

Instead he had said, “There was never really an us, Wren.”

“You were pregnant,” Weston said now.

“I found out nine days after the divorce. I wrote to you. I called your private number until it was disconnected. I went to Kade Tower when I was five months pregnant, and your grandfather’s security director told me you wanted no contact.”

“I never received anything.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

The gray-eyed boy spoke from the stroller. “Mama, is that the man who made you cry?”

“Yes,” Weston said before Wren could answer. “I’m the man who made her cry.”

“Are you going to do it again?”

“I hope not.”

“That isn’t a promise.”

“No,” Weston admitted. “It isn’t.”

“Stay away from my children,” Wren said, and pushed past him.