Claimed by the Mafia Don-Chapter 47: I’m Coming To Get You

ZOE DEAN’S POV

It had been two days with Aunt Gina and her family. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. True to her word, she made sure I ate properly — maybe even too properly. I was beginning to feel like I was losing shape from all the good food, but I wasn’t complaining. After everything that had happened, peace — even boring peace — was a blessing.

That afternoon, I was in my room, sitting on the floor and playing with Micah, Aunt Gina’s little boy. We were building towers out of colorful blocks when my phone began to ring from the bed.

"Hold on, buddy," I murmured, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off my jeans.

When I reached for the phone, I saw Fredda’s name flashing across the screen. A smile tugged at my lips. Finally.

"Hey, girl!" I exclaimed the moment I picked up.

But the voice that came through wasn’t hers.

My breath caught midair. My smile vanished.

"Zoe, where are you?"

That voice. Deep, calm, familiar — a voice that had once felt like home and heartbreak all at once. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart seemed to stop completely before it stumbled into a wild rhythm.

"Nero?" I whispered, barely trusting my own ears. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I was hearing what I wanted to hear.

"It’s me, baby," he said softly. "Where are you? I’m coming to get you."

The world seemed to tilt. I couldn’t think, couldn’t even process what I was hearing. It was him. After all this time — after the silence, the pain, the unanswered questions — it was really him.

Then, suddenly, another voice erupted on the other end.

"You let her go, you motherfucker! She doesn’t need you back in her life!"

Fredda.

Her voice was loud, angry, desperate. It sounded like she was struggling — fighting, even. My mind spun with the image of her trying to wrestle her phone from him.

"Are you hurting her?" I blurted out, my voice trembling.

"No," Nero said quickly. "My men are just holding her down."

That word — men — hit me like ice. His men. Of course. He hadn’t changed. Still the mafia Don. Still the man who scared and comforted me in the same breath.

I didn’t speak for a while. A hundred questions raced through my head — Where had he been? Why did he disappear? Was he hurt? Did he ever think about me? Why now?

But before I could form any of them, his voice came again — soft, steady, unbearably gentle.

"Zoe, where are you?"

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I... I’m with my aunty," I managed to say. My voice sounded strange even to me — small, hesitant, almost like I didn’t believe the words myself. "In Los Angeles."

He exhaled, a sound of relief that made my chest tighten.

"Wait for me," he said quietly. "I’m coming to get you."

And before I could say anything else — before I could ask why now, before I could tell him I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be found — the call ended.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I just sat there, staring at my phone, my hands trembling slightly. He was coming? Here?

A soft knock broke through my daze.

The door creaked open and Aunt Gina peeked in. "Lunch is ready. Come downstairs and eat," she said.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. I was still staring at my phone like it might ring again, like maybe this was all some weird dream I could wake up from.

"Zoe?" she called, concern creeping into her tone. When I finally looked up, her brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

I didn’t answer.

Her expression shifted instantly from confusion to worry. "Paul!" she called out, still keeping her eyes on me.

Her husband’s voice came faintly from downstairs. "Yeah?"

"Can you come hold Micah for a minute? I need to talk to Zoe."

A moment later, Paul appeared at the doorway, scooped Micah up with a quick smile in my direction. "Hey, Zoe," he greeted casually.

"Hi," I murmured. My voice was barely above a whisper.

When they were gone, Aunt Gina closed the door gently and came to sit beside me on the bed.

"What’s wrong?" she asked softly. "Did something happen?"

I stayed quiet. I didn’t even know where to start.

She reached for my phone, probably guessing that whatever had just happened had something to do with it. She glanced at the screen, scrolling for a moment. "Fredda called?" she asked.

I hesitated, then slowly shook my head. "It... it wasn’t Fredda." My throat felt tight as I added, "It was Nero."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Nero? The mafia Don?" she repeated, disbelief coloring every word.

I nodded faintly.

"What did he say?"

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "He said... he’s coming to get me."

Her face went still. "Coming here?"

All I could do was nod again, feeling the weight of the words sink in.

Nero was coming — and I had no idea of what to do. I didn’t know if it meant safety... or the start of another storm.

For a few long seconds, Aunt Gina just stared at me. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to process what I’d just said. Then, slowly, her expression changed — confusion shifted into disbelief, disbelief hardened into worry, and finally, into something sharper. Fear.

"Zoe..." she said carefully, her voice low and deliberate, as if she were trying not to startle me. "You said... Nero’s coming here?"

I nodded, though even that small movement felt heavy, uncertain. My neck felt stiff, my mind still spinning from the shock of hearing his voice.

She blinked a few times, watching me closely, as though hoping I’d suddenly smile and say it was a prank, that I’d misheard, that it wasn’t him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t even fake it.

"Are you sure you want him here?" she asked finally, her tone soft but cautious.

Her question hit me harder than I expected.

Do I want him here?

The truth sat heavy in my chest. Of course I did. I wanted to see him — to look him in the eye and ask why he disappeared, to touch him just once to know he was real. I’d spent nights wondering if he was dead, if he’d forgotten me, if I’d meant anything at all. And now he was coming.

But under that longing, fear twisted quietly. If Nero was coming, I’ll be reintroduced to his world again. Was I ready for that?

My mouth went dry.

"Aunt Gina," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly, "do you think it’s a good idea... to have him come here?"

She studied me for a while, her eyes soft but serious. The kind of look only someone older and wiser could give — a look that held both concern and understanding.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "Zoe," she said gently, "I can’t make that choice for you."

Her words were calm, but her eyes told another story — one full of unease.

"If you think you need to see him, I won’t stop you," she continued. "But I want you to be sure that’s what you really want. Not because you miss him, not because you’re curious, but because you’re ready for whatever comes with it."

I looked down at my hands, my fingers tightening around each other. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.