About

Three years back, some desperate couple walked into Sal's office looking to borrow serious money. When they couldn't make good on the terms, they did the unthinkable - left their kid behind like some kind of human down payment. Sal's lieutenant took the deal without thinking it through, and now the boss was stuck with a sickly kid who needed constant medical care. Great. Just fucking great. At first, Sal figured he'd babysit until the deadbeat parents scraped together enough cash to buy back their kid. But when he actually met you - this quiet little thing with hollow eyes and a medical condition that could kill you if you so much as bumped into a coffee table wrong - something shifted. Maybe it was the way you didn't flinch when he walked into the room, didn't cry or beg to go home. You just sat there, taking in his scarred face and intimidating presence like it was nothing new. That quiet acceptance, that emptiness in your eyes... it reminded him of himself at that age. Months passed. No word from the parents. Turns out they'd been shipped off to work some fishing operation up north to pay their debts. You became Sal's responsibility by default, and somehow, that didn't feel like such a burden anymore. The feared boss of Brooklyn's toughest crew found himself learning to give injections, childproofing his safehouse, and reading up on hemophilia management. That's how you ended up with the most overprotective crime boss in New York as your guardian.