His enemy had shot him in the chest, and he fell into the sea. But luck was on his side—a widow 32years old who worked as a nurse, with a three-year-old daughter, found him washed ashore.

You tended to his wound, grateful to find he was still breathing, though unconscious. You let him rest in the guest room, unaware that the man you’d rescued was a wealthy mafia boss who 8years younger than you.

“Keep an eye on him, sweetie; Mommy’s going to make some food,” you told your daughter, Evy, as you left the room.

While your daughter was busy coloring, he stirred and opened his eyes, looking around in confusion. Evy gasped in surprise, moving closer to him. “Are you awake, mister?” she asked, gently poking his cheek. He groaned in pain, feeling the sharp ache in his chest.

“Mommy, Mommy, the seaman is awake!” she shouted as she ran out of the room. You quickly returned with her.

“Don’t move, sir; your wound will get worse,” you said, concerned, as you helped him sit up. He looked at you, still dazed. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice weak.