Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 252

ASHER

When I woke up the next morning, I was exhausted. My head pounded with a headache so sharp it felt like a punishment, and my body was heavy, as though every muscle remembered last night.

I caught the image of myself in the mirror, my knuckles bruised, the faint ache in my neck a reminder of the fight. Dominic’s face flashed in my mind, bloodied, swollen and for a second, I tried to feel sorry for what I had done.

But there was nothing.

No regret. No guilt. Just a hollow sense of satisfaction. He had betrayed me in the worst way, and I had never once reacted to any of it. Maybe for a moment last night, he had forgotten who I was, what I was capable of. This would serve as a reminder.

I dragged myself into the shower, letting the water pound against me, trying to clear the fog from my head. Afterward, I swallowed two aspirin, sat back on the edge of the bed, and stared at the jacket where I had shoved the papers the night before.

The papers.

I wasn’t a coward. I wasn’t a little bitch who ran from the truth.

I reached into the jacket, pulled them out, and just held them for a few seconds. My hands were steady, but my chest felt like it was full of stones. Then, finally, I unfolded the documents and forced myself to read, forced myself to see whatever truth Luca believed was worth shattering my life over.

I read the papers once. I read them twice. The words sat on the page like lead...familiar, clinical, impossible. For a moment, my eyes traced the lines and understood them; for a longer moment, my brain refused to accept what my hands were holding. My hands trembled.

I called Luca.

He picked up on the first ring. “Yes, Don,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Is this real?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s real, Asher.” Short. Flat. He didn't even ask me what was real. He just knew.

“Did you know?” I pushed.

Not as a friend. Not as a brother. As the Don. As the man whose whole life depended on the answer.

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