Chapter 1 - The Touch on Cold Marble
The icy winter air bit through the silent courtyard of the grand estate, where patches of dirty snow clung to the stone steps. August Howerin—a late-forties Mafia boss with slicked dark hair, a black double-breasted overcoat, and severe facial burn scars—walked slowly down the staircase, leaning heavily on a carved wooden cane held in his heavily scarred left hand.
A six-year-old girl named Poppy wandered near his path, holding open a worn drawing book featuring a bright purple horse. Suddenly, her mother Ruth, a panic-stricken maid in a grey dress and white apron, sprinted from the doorway, violently shoving Poppy backward to keep her away from the feared boss.
The sudden push sent Poppy’s drawing book flying, landing face-down on the snow-covered stone steps. "Poppy, no! Stay away from him!" Ruth gasped, her face drained of all color.
August halted mid-step. His scarred face darkened with cold resentment as he instinctively pulled his heavy coat sleeve down to cover his disfigured skin, looking away with reserved hostility. "Control your child, Ruth," he warned in a quiet, icy tone.
Instead of shrinking back, little Poppy calmly stepped toward the steps, knelt down to pick up her drawing book, and pulled back her own dark blue coat sleeve—revealing faded hospital wristband marks and needle scars on her delicate forearm.
"Don’t be mad... I have marks on my arm too," Poppy whispered softly.
August froze as the little girl reached out her tiny hands, gently wrapping her warm fingers over his burn-scarred hand on the cane. "Your hand is cold," she murmured gently.
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August’s terrifying gaze softened into profound astonishment. He raised his scarred hand to hold her small fingers, gesturing for his armed guards to step back, before kneeling in the cold snow. "Show me your purple horse, little one," August whispered softly.
👉 Read PART 2 to discover why Poppy's mother was terrified of August finding out about her daughter's illness!
