Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 212

ASHER

The second I really saw him, really looked at the little boy, I knew..... There was no question. No hesitation. No need for confirmation.

The moment my eyes settled on his small, sleepy, innocent face, I saw myself. In the softness of his features, in the way his brows pulled together, in that stubborn little chin, I saw me.

I saw myself in a mirror of the past. I saw the boy I had once been. The photos. The memories. The unmistakable bloodline.

He was a replica of me.... Leon was mine.

He had to be. There was no other explanation. No need for one. I didn’t want one. I didn’t need his mother to tell me. I didn’t need anyone to speak a word. I knew. In the marrow of my bones. In the beat of my heart.

He was mine.

And suddenly, I felt like I was floating outside my body, like I was watching myself walk towards him in a dream. Was this real? Was he real?

I reached out, placed my hand gently on his shoulder. And he was real.

Solid. Warm. Real.

He kept looking at me, curiously, quietly, his eyes searching mine. Maybe he saw it too. Maybe something inside him just knew.

And without even thinking, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I reached out, brushed his messy hair away from his face, because I needed to see him. I needed to look at him clearly.

And when I did, I got struck. Frozen. Completely taken by the moment.....Because this, this right here. This was my son. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t.

My throat was tight, like something was lodged there, grief, guilt, joy, I couldn’t tell. I just kept staring at him. Touching his face like he might vanish if I looked away.

His eyes were wide, searching mine, innocent and curious and unsure. And God—he had my eyes. The shape, the color, the way they held things in, just like I always did. He was warm and real and curious. He didn’t pull away. He just looked at me. Studied me. Like I was something familiar, something his, and he didn’t know why yet.

I stared back, but I couldn’t trust myself to move. Because everything everything was unraveling right there in his presence.

There were no words. Nothing passed my lips. What the hell do you say the first time you meet your child and realize he’s been breathing in this world without you, but oh so close?

I wanted to ask questions. So many. But I didn’t say any of it. Because none of it would matter if I broke this moment. If I startled him. If I let the storm inside me rise to the surface.

So I watched him. Every inch of him. The slope of his nose. The line of his brow. The mouth, stubborn, shaped just like mine. I could see myself in him.....But more than that, I felt him.

Felt something fall into place that I hadn’t even realized was missing.

“Are you my dad?” he suddenly asked.

The words hit me like a hammer. My breath caught. My heart stopped. Time stopped.

He asked it so quietly, but it echoed in my head like a scream. I didn’t even turn toward the bathroom where I knew his mother was. I didn't have to ask her to know. I looked at him. Really looked at him.

And I nodded. That was all I could do. Just a single, small nod. The truth didn’t need a speech. It didn’t need dramatic declarations. It needed honesty..

God!

Are you my dad? He shouldn’t have had to ask. But he did. And I had to answer.

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