Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 257

ASHER

The flight felt both endless and too short. I spent every second of it pacing the aisle, clenching and unclenching my fists, rehearsing what I would say, and then scrapping it all over again.

What could I possibly say to her?

How do you tell the woman you love that you know the truth now, that you know she carried your child, that you know why she left and still demand to know why she didn’t trust you enough to stay?

The jet touched down. I barely remembered getting off, barely remembered the drive. My heart was hammering against my ribs, my throat dry as I walked up the steps to the house.

I didn’t knock.

Not this time.

The door swung open, and there she was.... Ariella.

Her hair was pulled back, messy, strands falling into her face like she’d been running after Leon, and maybe she had, because a second later, my son came barreling into view, laughing, clutching a toy truck in his hand.

My son. My chest felt too tight.

She froze when she saw me, her breath catching audibly.

“Asher.” Her voice was small, barely a whisper.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

I didn’t say anything as I walked closer towards her. She seemed frozen in place, just watching me.

We kept watching each other like that, caught in some kind of trance, as I kept walking closer. She just stood there, staring at me like she wasn’t expecting to see me. And I knew she wasn’t expecting to see me, but still, the way she looked at me, it felt like the world had stopped.

Then, suddenly, something or someone bumped against my legs, shattering the thread between us. I looked down and saw Leon, his happy little face lit up with the biggest smile, his tiny fingers reaching up toward me, asking me to carry him.

And I did just that.

He shouted, his voice filled with pure happiness and that unfiltered childish wonder that only belonged to him.

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Hello, my little boy,” I said, my voice breaking as I kissed his soft little cheeks.

He threw his small arms around my neck, hugging me tight. I hugged him back even tighter, careful not to crush him against me. I buried my face against him, breathing him in, inhaling that sweet baby smell.

This was my son.

I was carrying my son in my arms.

He was here.

He was mine.

Just as I was drowning in that moment, I heard her voice, soft, hesitant, closer than before.

“You’re back,” she said.

I looked up and saw that she had moved closer, standing just a few steps away, watching us. Watching me.

Her expression was something I couldn’t quite name. It was as if she were trying to memorize this moment so she wouldn’t forget it. As if she wanted to cry but was forcing herself not to.

And given everything I had just learned, I had an idea of what she must be feeling right now.

Finally, we let go of each other. And I could tell Ariella was still not herself, still uneasy. I didn’t know what was wrong.

“I was just cooking,” she said quietly, “I’m going to see how it's going.”

“Okay, we’ll help,” I said, carrying Leon to the kitchen. He was full of energy, chattering and laughing, clearly excited about what was going on.

“What are you cooking?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Ariella.

She smiled, glancing down at Leon, who grinned back at her, and said,

“I made your little boy’s favorite....pasta with chicken sauce. And I also made ice cream for dessert.”

Leon’s eyes lit up. “Ice cream!” he shouted, practically bouncing in excitement.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Only you would get this excited about ice cream.”

The kitchen smelled rich and comforting, the aroma of freshly boiled pasta and the savory chicken sauce Ariella had made. Leon hovered near the counter, eagerly helping where he could, scooping sauce, and laughing at every little spill.

“I’ll help,” I said, stepping closer to Ariella.

We moved together naturally, stirring the sauce, checking the pasta, and arranging the bowls of ice cream. Leon leaned over the counter, sprinkling a little extra cheese on his pasta.

We worked in silence for a while, letting the smells and the quiet energy fill the kitchen. The pasta was perfectly cooked, the sauce rich and flavorful, and the ice cream sat ready for dessert, smooth and creamy.

When it was done, we set the table together. Leon’s excitement was contagious as he clapped his hands and giggled, while Ariella finally allowed herself a small, genuine smile.

As the food sat steaming in front of us and Leon bounced with joy, I realized something important: Being here. With Ariella. With Leon. All of us together..... I felt complete in a way that I never felt before.....