The Mafia Boss Pitied a Freezing Little Girl in the Snow — Until She Offered to Sell Him His Own Stolen Pocket Watch

"Sophie," Dante repeated, the name tasting like absolute salvation on his lips. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms, to wrap her in his expensive wool coat, but he forced himself to remain incredibly gentle. He didn't want to terrify her.

"Sophie, where is your mother?" Dante asked, his voice urgent but miraculously soft. "Where is Clara?"

Sophie’s fierce, proud facade instantly crumbled. Tears welled in her big, beautiful eyes, freezing almost immediately on her pale cheeks.

"She's sick," Sophie sobbed, pointing her small, trembling finger down a dark, terrifyingly desolate alleyway next to the cafe. "The bad men kicked us out of our room today. Mommy gave me her sweater, but she won't wake up anymore. I was trying to sell the watch to buy her medicine."

Dante felt the air violently rush out of his lungs.

He didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. He aggressively tore off his custom-tailored suit jacket, wrapping the heavy, warm fabric tightly around Sophie’s shivering shoulders. He effortlessly scooped his six-year-old daughter into his arms, holding her securely against his chest.

"Show me," Dante commanded, his voice dropping into a freezing, lethal frequency that had nothing to do with the winter weather.

He marched directly into the pitch-black alleyway, his polished shoes crushing through the deep, dirty snow. Two of his massive, heavily armed bodyguards immediately stepped out of the black armored car, drawing their suppressed weapons and following their boss into the darkness.

The alley was lined with condemned, abandoned brick buildings. The wind howled viciously, completely masking the sound of their approaching footsteps.