Claimed by the Mafia Don Chapter 33: The Past

ZOE DEAN’S POV

"Your father?" Fredda repeated, her voice sharp and incredulous through the phone. "What do you an your father? I thought you said you didn’t have family, Zoe."

I pressed a trembling hand against my chest, trying to steady my heartbeat. "It’s... a long story, Fredda," I said quietly. "But if my dad is back, it only ans one thing—trouble."

The words tasted bitter. My throat felt dry. I couldn’t let him find again. I wouldn’t.

Images flickered behind my eyelids—his shadow stretching across our old kitchen floor, the sound of shattering glass, my mother’s broken sobs. Her shaking hands pulling close as she whispered, "Never speak his na again."

Michael Dean. The man who’d walked out when I was eight. The man whose na had been buried with my childhood.

But if he was alive... and looking for —

"Zoe?" Fredda’s voice broke through, softer now but laced with fear. "What the hell is going on?"

"I—" My voice cracked before I forced it steady. "I’ll explain later. Just listen to . If that man ever cos back, if he shows up again, tell him you don’t know anything about . You’ve never heard from . Promise , Fredda."

There was a pause. I could hear her breathing on the other end, unsteady and hesitant. "Zoe, are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to , you know. We’ve known each other for a year now—don’t shut out."

I closed my eyes, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I know," I whispered. "I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. But right now, just do what I said. Please."

Silence stretched between us again, heavy and uneasy. Finally, she exhaled. "Okay," she said softly. "Just promise you’ll tell the truth when you co back."

"I will."

When the call ended, I lowered the phone slowly, my hand shaking. The quiet that followed felt too loud, like the walls themselves were listening to my thoughts.

For a long mont, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My father—alive? Here? Looking for ?

It didn’t make sense. Fredda didn’t know anything about him; I’d never told her his na. That ant she wasn’t lying. He’d truly been there.

But how had he found ? And why now, after all these years?

I clutched the sheets tighter to my bare chest, shaking my head as if I could fling the thoughts away. No. No, this can’t be happening. He can’t co back. He won’t ruin my life again.

He’d already taken enough—my childhood, my mother’s peace, everything. He’d destroyed her piece by piece until there was nothing left but the ghost of the woman who’d once smiled at . She’d died because of him, and I’d been forced to grow up with an aunt who never stopped reminding of how dangerous he was.

A soft knock jolted out of my thoughts.

"Zoe?" Emily’s voice ca from behind the door, small and curious. "Are you in there?"

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. "Yeah, I’m here."

"Aren’t you coming down for lunch? You’ve been locked up in your room all day."

Her concern ward a little, even through the panic still gripping my chest. "I’ll be right there," I called back.

"Okay. I’ll be downstairs."

Her footsteps faded, and I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand over my heart. You can do this, Zoe, I whispered to myself. You’re safe. He won’t find you. You’re not that scared little girl anymore.

Repeating those words helped—barely—but enough for to find my footing again. I dragged myself to the bathroom, took a long, hot shower, and tried to wash the fear off my skin.

When I finally stepped out, dressed in fresh clothes, I still felt the faint tremor in my hands. But at least I could breathe again.

Downstairs, the dining hall was warm and sunlit. Emily sat at the table with a glass of milk, a plate of sliced fruits in front of her. When she saw , she smiled brightly, relief flickering across her face.

"There you are!" she said.

I smiled back, though mine felt smaller, tighter. "Here I am."

I pulled out a chair beside her and sat, reaching for a banana mostly to keep my hands busy.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, watching .

"Uh-huh." I nodded, peeling the banana slowly. "Just... tired."

She seed to accept that, taking another sip of milk. Then her eyes lit up as if she rembered sothing. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. "Oh! Nero said I should give this to you."

My brows furrowed. "Nero?"

She nodded eagerly, handing it over. "He left it for you this morning."

I blinked, realizing how completely I’d forgotten that I’d woken up alone. Carefully, I opened the letter. His handwriting was beautiful—bold, slanted.

> I’m sorry I left before you woke up, baby. Had sothing important to handle with Somchai and Benny. For now, we’ll be away from the mansion, but you have nothing to fear—it’s heavily guarded. We’ll be back soon. Take care of yourself and of Emily too.<

A soft smile tugged at my lips despite the storm inside . I ran my fingers over the paper as if I could feel his touch through the paper. He thought of .

Folding the letter carefully, I set it down on the table. For a mont, I let myself breathe in that small comfort before reality crept back in.

"Have you seen Elena?" I asked suddenly.

Emily shook her head. "No, not really. Why?"

"I just... I haven’t seen her since that day," I murmured, frowning slightly. "I hope she’s okay."

Emily shrugged lightly, her voice casual. "Don’t worry about her. She’s always been like that. She’ll co around."

I nodded, though worry still lingered. "Okay."

Peeling another banana, I watched her for a while in silence. She looked so at ease, sipping her milk and humming softly. But in the back of my mind, unease curled tighter and tighter.

Nero was gone. My father was alive.

And for the first ti in years, I could feel the past reaching for again.