Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 210

ARIELLA

It takes me some time....too much time for my body to respond, for my mind to register what's happening. But when it does, the fear doesn’t creep in slowly.

It slams into me.

BAM.

Hard.Violent. Unforgiving.

What if Asher is taking Leon away?

What if he's walking out with him, and I never see either of them again?

What if he’s decided that I don’t deserve to raise my own son, that I don’t even deserve a goodbye?

And just like that, panic takes over.

I scramble for my clothes, not even caring what I throw on, what it looks like, if it's inside out, if it makes sense. I just moved. I just ran down the stairs. With my Heart in my throat and Terror in every step. Straight for the front door.

My hand slams onto the knob, cold and stiff, and I twist it. Nothing. It won’t turn. It's Locked. My heart jumps. He’s locked me in?

Has he locked me in here so I can’t follow? So I can’t reach them? So he can just… walk away with my son?

But then...murmurs. Soft. Gentle. Faint. But I would know those voices anywhere.

Leon.

Asher.

I stopped breathing. They’re not outside. They’re not gone. The voices… they’re still inside the house.

I turn slowly. I follow the sound. It’s coming from the kitchen. The kitchen. And suddenly, I’m frozen again, but not from fear this time. From confusion. Uncertainty. Dread.

What are they doing in the kitchen?

Should I go in there?

Can I even face them?

What if I walk in and say the wrong thing? What if I ruin this… whatever this is? What if I break something that’s only just beginning?

I’m scared. Not just of Asher. But of Leon too.

I know I shouldn't be. But I am. So I do the only thing my body allows me to do: I tiptoe. Quietly. Barely breathing.

I tiptoe down the hallway, slowly creeping toward the kitchen doorway. Because I need to see them. Just for a moment.

Before they see me.

Before they stop.

Before the moment dies.

I get closer to the kitchen, careful not to make a sound, and that’s when I hear it....Laughter.

Not loud.

Not wild.

But soft. Content. Full.

It’s the kind of laugh that carries something with it....wonder, gratitude, hope. I can’t explain it exactly, but the sound goes right through me.

And it hurts.

Not the kind of hurt that breaks. It's the kind that leaves a mark. The kind that makes you feel everything all at once...joy, sadness, longing, and something sharp that beats just under the surface.

I pause. I feel it. And then I peek around the corner, just slightly, just enough to see them. They’re sitting at the kitchen island. Their backs are to me, but I don’t need to see their faces.

I press a hand over my mouth. I’m crying again. Silently, but I am. Because this...this is what I wanted all along. For them to know each other. To see each other. And yet, watching it happen, knowing I didn’t create it the way I should have… it guts me.

I don’t step forward.

I don’t run in.

I don’t ruin the moment.

I turn around slowly, quietly. My bare feet brush the floor as I make my way upstairs, one careful step at a time. Because sometimes love isn’t about being in the room. Sometimes it’s about letting the people you love most find each other… without you.

I go back into the bedroom. I sit on the bed, my fingers locked together in my lap, and I just wait.

I wait for the moment to be done.

I wait for the laughter downstairs to fade, for the clinking of glasses to stop.

I wait for the footsteps that will eventually come, soft or heavy, I don’t know.

I wait for them to be ready to face me.

To face me again.

Maybe they’ll come up together. Maybe separately. Maybe not at all. But I know the moment is coming. The moment where everything spills out.

Whether it’s silence, or shouting, or tears…

Whether they lash out, or cry, or ask me the questions I’ve been dreading for five years.

Whatever it is, I’m not in control of it anymore.

All I can do now is sit here, quietly on the edge of the bed, hands trembling slightly in my lap…

And wait for whatever comes next.