Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 260

ASHER

After what felt like forever, her thoughts began to quiet, leaving only soft hiccups. I gently plucked at her hair, whispering,

“It’s okay, dear Ariella. I’m here. You’re not alone. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head toward me, looking through swollen red eyes. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I thought he was alive. I thought we were all alive. I didn’t know he was gone all this time.”

Her thoughts spun again, looping back over the same pain.

“It’s okay, Ariella. It’s okay. Just let it all out,” I soothed.

“I should have asked,” she murmured between sobs. “I should have asked you about my parents when I came back… Wait… is my mother… is my mom....?”

“Your mother is okay, love. Your mother is alive and well,” I reassured her.

She bit her teeth, her tears spilling faster, raw and unstoppable now.

“My God… my father loved me. He was the only person who was truly there. The only person I could truly count on. And he died… and I wasn’t even there to bury him, yo pay my respects..... I wasn’t there, Asher,” she sobbed, her voice breaking.

" I am so sorry, love....'

“How did he die?” she asked, trembling.

At that moment, I hesitated.

The truth, the painful truth, was that her father couldn’t bear the thought of his little daughter being gone. The weight of loss had crushed him. A heart attack… depression… I knew if I told her, it would shatter her completely. She would feel guilty, tormented by the thought that her father died because of her.

And so, even though my chest ached to lie, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Ariella… He died in the line of fire. He was shot.”

Her sobs shook her body as she clung to me, and I held her tightly, letting her grief pour out, while silently vowing that nothing, nothing would ever take our family apart again.

After a while, She had calmed down. I made her a cup of tea, and she drank quietly, but her mind seemed far away, lost somewhere else.

“What about my mom?” she asked. “What happened to her? Who is she living with? Did she go to live with Aunt Matilda?”

I felt the worry in her, the fear that her mom was alone and that nobody was taking care of her.

“She’s fine,” I reassured her. “I’ve been taking care of her. I paid for the house, I have someone to help her around the house, and I put money in her account every month. Your mom is okay.”

She took a deep breath and held my hand. “Thank you, Asher… really. After all I’ve done, I didn’t think you would go this far for me.”

“It’s okay, Ariella,” I said softly. “She’s your mom, and I think you don’t realize this, but I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

She swallowed hard, and I felt a whimper building up inside her, as if she were about to cry again.

“Don’t cry again, Ariella. Please don’t cry again,” I whispered, holding her closer.

Eventually, Ariella emerged from the bathroom. I helped her dry off, silently forcing my mind away from her, away from thoughts of her hot body in front of me. I focused instead on being present, right here, right now, with her. I knew she needed me.

I picked out a nightdress for her, helped her into it, and guided her to bed. She climbed in, but she didn’t close her eyes; she simply lay there, staring ahead. I sat at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.

“Are you back for good, or are you leaving again?”

Her voice cut through my thoughts, sudden and sharp. I turned toward her, feeling the weight of her question, and decided to close the distance between us. She was tucked beneath the blanket, the covers pulled up around her. I climbed onto the bed, careful not to crowd her, and reached out, taking her hand in mine.

“I would love nothing more than to stay,” I said softly. “But… you know it’s not that simple.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s why I was so surprised that you were here. That’s why I knew something had to be wrong if you were back so soon.”

There was another layer to her words, though, something hesitant, almost hopeful.

“…But there’s also this other side of me that thought maybe… maybe everything could be that easy,” she added.

I shifted closer, turning to face her, letting a small, gentle smile form.

“Then why did you come back?” she asked again, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and quiet accusation.

“If my dad died four years ago,” she continued, “…you could have told me this at any time. Why… why are you back now?”