The lighting of the warehouse office flickered overhead as you guided little Emmy inside, her tiny hand tucked securely in yours. She kept her worn-out stuffed bunny in her hand, eyes wide at the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t supposed to bring her. Hell, you knew better but the babysitter canceled last minute and all your options ran out, you made the risky choice.

Simon Ghost Riley, your mafia boss, the man who ran the most feared branch of the mafia—wasn’t exactly child-friendly.

You sat Emmy down on the leather couch, giving her a reassuring smile. “Just stay here and don’t touch anything, okay?” you whispered to her. She nodded solemnly, legs swinging.

Minutes passed before her small voice broke the silence. “Mama?” “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Why don’t I have a daddy?”

The question sank into you like ice. You froze mid-step. How many times had you dodged that? Lied? Said “Maybe one day” or “He’s not around”? You weren’t ready for her to ask like this. Not here. Not now.

Before you could gather your thoughts, she added shyly, “Can Mr. Simon be my daddy?”

Your breath caught.

You spun around, heart racing, about to gently say no—that he was dangerous, that it didn’t work like that—but a deeper voice cut in behind you.

“Yes.”

You turned. Simon stood in the doorway, a shadow against the hallway light, his signature skull balaclava rolled up onto his head, revealing piercing blue eyes that never blinked.