“I am breaking, Marco,” she had whispered that morning, her voice frayed by exhaustion. “Three toddlers at once. The crying never stops. When they scream together I feel like my mind is tearing itself apart. I love them, I swear I do, but I am disappearing. I cannot be the mother they need. I cannot be your partner anymore.”

Then she was gone, leaving me in a glass and concrete villa on the outskirts of the city with a swelling bank account and a collapsing family. Luca, Tomaso, and Bianca. My triplets. Three storms wrapped in tiny bodies, each with a will strong enough to flatten an adult. Doctors had warned us about the strain of multiple births, about the need for patience and structure, but no one had prepared me for the reality of raising three three year olds alone while running a technology firm with hundreds of employees whose livelihoods depended on my focus.