My Mafia Ex Remarried Because I “Couldn’t Give Him an Heir”—Then Four Five-Year-Olds Asked, “Is This Where Dad Lives?”

Before I could answer my son, the heavy mahogany doors of the mansion swung wide open. The music from the ballroom spilled out into the freezing night, followed closely by the groom himself.

Dominic Gallow looked exactly as terrifying and captivating as the day I met him. He wore a custom-tailored black tuxedo that perfectly framed his broad shoulders. The harsh, angular lines of his face were illuminated by the courtyard lights, showcasing the ruthless authority that made him the most feared man in the city.

He was walking down the marble steps, likely seeking a moment of quiet away from the suffocating crowd of syndicate bosses and politicians, when his dark eyes locked onto the front gates.

He froze completely.

The cigarette he had just pulled from a silver case slipped from his fingers, landing on the pristine snow. For a man who controlled everything from the city’s shipping ports to its underground casinos, losing his composure was entirely unheard of. He forgot how to speak. He forgot how to breathe.

He wasn’t just looking at me. He was looking at the four tiny faces peering through the iron bars.

Dominic took a slow, hesitant step forward, crossing the massive courtyard as if he were walking through a dream. When he reached the gate, the armed guards flanking the entrance nervously stepped back, unsure of what to do.

Dominic’s eyes darted from Noah, to Elise, to Clare, and finally to Henry. The physical evidence was undeniable, hitting him with the force of a freight train.

Noah had his exact, piercing dark eyes. Clare possessed the exact same dramatic, sharp curve to her eyebrows. Henry, entirely unaware of the tension, was standing with one small hand shoved casually into his coat pocket—a mirror image of the dominant stance Dominic used when negotiating millions.

The heavy silence was broken by the sharp clicking of heels. Adrienne, Dominic’s new bride, emerged from the mansion. She wore a stunning white silk gown dripping in diamonds.

She walked up behind her husband, wrapping a manicured hand around his arm, and then she saw the children. The blood completely drained from her perfect, smiling face.

“Dominic,” Adrienne whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the undeniable replicas of her new husband. “How old are they?”