Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 250

ASHER

Luca’s hand shot up, frustration spilling over. “Okay, fine. If you think I want to be with her, if you think I want to fuck Ariella....”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I finally interrupted, anger boiling.

“That’s what you’re saying, right? It’s what you’re saying,” Luca snapped back, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, then leaned forward.

“Look, you and I both know why you don’t want to look at those papers. And we both know it has nothing to do with me being interested in Ariella. You and I both know that you know I’m right. That’s why you don’t want to read them.”

I shook my head.

"No… that’s not why I don’t want to read them,” I snapped, my voice rising before I forced it steady.

“I don’t want to read them because I think you planted this. You made this. Whatever it is....it doesn’t exist. Ariella is mine. She’s only ever been mine. Leon is my son, and I don’t care what’s in those papers.”

I leaned forward, eyes locked on him.

“I know you, Luca. I know you and I are best friends, the best of friends. Brothers, like you said. Yes, you’re closer to me than Dominic. We are brothers. Real ones. I wouldn’t think twice about that. Why? Because I know, like you said, your family comes from a long line of Domenico men’s consigliere. And I know you put the famiglia first before anything.”

Luca laughed then, high and hard, sharp enough to sting.

“Asher,” he said, shaking his head, “You have got to be kidding. How many times have I broken my oath to the famiglia for you? How many times have I put you first before the famiglia? And this is what you give me in return? Excuses. A refusal to even face the truth?”

His laughter died, and his voice dropped into something colder. “I am so disappointed in you.” He shrugged, almost weary now. “But maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all… Ariella has always been your Achilles’ heel. You’re always pragmatic, always progressive, always one step ahead. But whenever it’s about Ariella, you lose everything. Your sense. Your reason. Your judgment. Your eyes go blind to the truth.”

He pushed the papers closer, his gaze never wavering.

“But the truth is right here in front of your face.”

Then he raised his hand, finished the last of his whiskey, and slammed the empty glass down on the table. The sound cracked through the haze of the club. He stood, turned without another word, and walked away.

The papers sat there in front of me, silent and heavy, like a loaded gun.

My hands trembled. I had never had this reaction before. I could pick them up, I could read them, yet my eyes blurred, my vision glazed. No, I wasn’t crying. But the words… the words refused to form. They were there, right in front of me, but they jumbled, twisted, blurred.

Like the truth itself was rejecting me. The truth was, I didn’t want to read the goddamn papers. I didn’t want to know if what Luca said was the truth. I didn’t want to know. So I grabbed them, ready to rip them apart, to shred every word that dared to tell me Leon wasn’t mine. He was mine. My blood told me so. My soul told me so. My connection to him told me so. That was enough....wasn’t it?

But my hands… they shook. I couldn’t tear the papers. And I couldn’t read them either. So I shoved them into the back of my jacket like they were poison and barked at the bartender for a whole bottle of whiskey.

I poured glass after glass, trying to make sense of this storm inside me. My conflict with Luca. With myself.... With everything.

And still, there was no way, no freaking way....that boy wasn’t my son.