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

party, Mrs. Howerin praising her flamingo drawing, and a boy named Owen eating a crayon at recess.

Clara watched her chew.

Her chest hurt.

“Lily.”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Have you ever been curious about your dad?”

Lily stopped midbite.

Then she set her fork down carefully.

“Yes,” she said. “But you got sad when I asked, so I stopped asking.”

Clara reached across the continue reading …