Page 54 of Mafia Pregnancy

Radmir

The Saturday morning sun, a brilliant California gold, pours through the windows of my G-Wagon. It isn’t the armored variant I would have chosen a year ago. This one is stock, its most advanced security features being the child-proof locks and the five-star safety rating. I glance in the rearview mirror, my eyes bypassing my own reflection to land on the two car seats in the back.