Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

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Things got worse, so much worse that I ended up feeding Leon dry bread with water.

I had baked the bread myself, scraping together what was left of the flour. I tried to make it soft, tried to make it taste like love, but it was just dry, tasteless. That night, after I tucked Leon into bed and kissed his forehead, I went to my room and broke down.

I cried, not because of the bread, not because of the hunger, not even because of the silence. I cried because I knew I had to start rationing. Rationing flour. Like we were in a war. And in a way, we were. It just wasn’t being fought with guns, it was being fought with cruelty and hate.

What if this wasn’t the end?

What if his next retaliation was worse?

No gas? No electricity? No water?

I was terrified of what might come next. I was scared of how I was going to protect my son somewhere where even basics could be taken away at a whim.

I cried myself to sleep. And then…something touched my shoulder.

I shot up, heart pounding, thinking it was Leon. Maybe he needed water. Maybe he had a nightmare.

But it wasn’t Leon. It was Asher.

He stood beside me in one of his tailored suits, immaculate, smelling like expensive cologne and power. And there I was, worn, weak, probably smelling like stale flour and sweat. I stared at him, speechless. The room was silent. My body trembled as I pulled the blankets around me like armour.

He didn’t say a word at first. He just stood there, hands casually tucked into his pockets, gazing down at me like a king inspecting a worthless peasant.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, after a moment, he shook his head slightly, just once and asked in a voice that was quiet but sharp:

“Have you had enough?”

I frowned, mouth parting to speak.

“I…”

But then it hit me, what he’d done. What his question really meant.

Before I could stop myself, I was already out of bed, my hands slamming against his chest.

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Chapter 126

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“You bastard!” I screamed, hitting him again. “You cruel, ugly bastard! How could you? You heartless, ugly bastard!”

Each word left me trembling as I hit him over and over. He didn’t stop me, not at first. He stood there, letting me throw the rage at him like punches that had been building for weeks.

Then suddenly, he caught both my wrists in his hands, firm, unforgiving and held them tightly above me until I stopped flailing until the screams in my throat turned into sobs.

“I’m going to ask you again,” he said, voice low, eyes unreadable. “Have you had enough?”

“Enough of what?” I spat. “You left us here to die! You were going to starve us! I fucking hate you…..”

I tried to kick him, rage boiling, but he saw it coming. He moved quickly, easily knocking my leg aside with his own.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said coldly.

Then he shoved me, not violently, but with enough force to throw me back on the bed. My wrists still in his grip, he pinned them above my head for a second before letting go and walking toward the door.

And I knew.

If he left now, it would only get worse. This was nothing compared to what he had planned

next.

I didn’t want to win. I didn’t care about pride anymore. I was past the point of breaking. I was ready for him to do his worst but I couldn’t just think of myself.

Leon.

I couldn’t let my son suffer because I was stubborn. So I jumped up and ran after him.

“Stop! Stop…please stop!” I cried.

But he didn’t stop. He reached the door, hand already on the knob.

And that’s when I shouted,

“I’ve had enough! It’s enough! Please… don’t go.

That got him to finally stop. He paused at the door before slowly turning around, a bright, cold smile spreading across his face, one that never touched his eyes.

“Good,” he said. “That’s very good.”

I swallowed. “Do you… want me to take off my clothes now?” I asked, my hand instinctively moving toward the buttons.

He raised a hand to stop me. His face screwed up in disgust.

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Cheaper 126

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“No. Not right now. I’m not interested in this,” he said, gesturing toward me with clear disgust.

His eyes scanned me like I was something pathetic, barely human.

“This is just pitiful,” he muttered. “I take care of my whores. I spend the money. I feed them. I give them everything, a roof, clothes, beauty. I even give them someone to do everything for them, so they can rest. I make sure they live in comfort because I want them to be the best whores they can be.”

A sharp pain spread through my chest at his words, but I said nothing. Because I knew I couldn’t win this. I just stood there, silent.

“Do you understand me, Ariella?” he asked, voice like ice.

“Yes. I understand,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

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