Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 265

ASHER

I sit straighter, my pulse quickening.

“And I told myself, I was going to tell you, and you were gonna help me.” She shakes her head. “And they told me the hard truth, opened my eyes, Asher.... That you weren’t Don yet. He was just teaching you the ropes by then. And you didn’t really have any powers. How could you have helped me?”

Her hands tremble slightly, and I feel a sharp stab of guilt.

“In time, I realized she was right,” she continues, her voice quieter now. “I also knew I couldn’t run away with my father. The moment they found us, he would die. I also knew I couldn’t tell you, because that would mean my parents’ death. But I also knew that I was pregnant, so my mom was pushing for the marriage to move forward faster.....so I could say the child was your father’s.”

I can’t help the wave of emotions crashing over me. Disgust. Anger. Fury. Shock. Heartache. A violent mix of all of it churns inside me.

Thinking about Ariella… all alone, forced into impossible choices, her family’s threats weighing down on her, the pressure to navigate a world where the stakes were life and death… and still, somehow, protecting me.

I clench my fists, my chest tight. I want to scream. I want to tear down the walls that forced her into that corner. And yet, I just sit there, listening, feeling the weight of everything she endured and the choices she had to make..... alone.

“I’m so sorry.... I’m just so sorry. I wish there was a word or something I could do to erase that from you.”

“I know,” she says, and now I realize she’s crying. Her voice trembles, barely audible, and I instinctively reach for her, wanting to pull her close.

“No,” she interrupts softly. “Just let me finish. I don't want to continue keeping this inside me....”

I let her finish.

“Let’s just say… I couldn’t do it,” she whispers, her hands clutching the blanket as if it could hold her together. “I tried to see myself doing it. Marrying your father...... I couldn’t. And so the only way I could find, the only way out was to run away. And I didn’t need to just run away because people would come looking for me. My dad would get in trouble. He would look for me, and that would only make things worse for my parents. I knew I had to fake my death then....”

Her voice falters for a moment, and I can hear her memories pressing down on her.

“My dad… he had already been planning how the two of us would run away. He knew what we would need, who would have contact. He didn’t know this, but I had known my dad’s safe numbers ever since I was young. He trained me to know them in case anything happened to him. I knew the plans, and I started looking for money, stole some money, did everything I could. I was alone, you know, so I could fake my own death. I didn’t really think I could pull it off, but I was determined… because lives were at stake.”

Her voice grows steadier, her words carrying the weight of every choice she’d had to make.

“That’s what I did. I ran away… to a place where the Romano didn’t have power. An enemy territory. My dad used to talk about our enemies, so that’s where I went, not close, but far away, on the other side of the country. I began my life there, started with a job. I couldn’t use my real name, but I had made a fake high school certificate, and that’s what I used to get work. I started bartending because those jobs have a lot of tips. But then I couldn’t work that anymore as my pump grew, so I worked at diners, making sure I had money for when… for when I eventually gave birth. Because I knew for those first weeks I couldn’t go to work.”

You're so brave. I feel so lucky and also so, so, so, so, so very guilty, but that's not about me now. Now it's all about you."

I held her tighter, my lips pressing against the top of her head, and whispered again and again, "Thank you, and I'm so, so sorry."

I kept repeating, kept telling her, finding every word I could find, and just saying it all over, all over, all over, and all over again.

The room was quiet except for our ragged breaths, the warmth of our shared grief and relief filling the space. I felt every tear she shed burn against me, a reminder of the pain she had endured alone, and I vowed silently that I would never let her bear anything alone again.

I don't know how much time passed with me holding her in my arms, with me trying to calm her down, with me telling her all those encouraging words, confessing every feeling I had for her, every admiration I held.

But then, I felt her get heavy. When I looked at her face, I realized she was asleep. She had actually fallen asleep. Gently, I laid her on the bed, straightened the sheets, and pulled a blanket over her. I took a pen and wrote a message on a piece of paper, a promise.

I wanted it to be the first thing she saw when she woke up. I placed it carefully on top of the second pillow, the spot that I should have been sleeping in, the place I should have been occupying.

I hoped that when she woke up, this would be the first thing she saw. That when she looked for me, she would know that I intended to keep that promise, whatever it takes.