"You can't have children." Seven years he'd heard it. His ex-wife signed the divorce papers, then went wedding-dress shopping the next day. His father shipped him off to a mafia Don rumored to bury bodies. She tilted his bruised chin, handed him a black card: "Raise my kids. Consider it retirement." Then his son came home beaten, and his ex sneered no Donna would want him. The Don walked in, slapped her, and claimed him. That zero on the report? Never true.
