My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 124

Chapter 124: 125/Scattered Memories

Chapter 125:

Robert’s Point of View

I sat before my father, and the charged silence between us weighed down the air in the room; nothing binds me to this man except that cursed blood running in our veins.

I listened to his advice, which carried no meaning for me, then I asked him in a dry tone while interlocking my fingers over the table: "Did you come here to talk about my personal assistant?"

My father fixed his gaze into my eyes and said sternly: "I am only advising you... this girl, Robert, will make you weak."

My jaw muscles tensed, and I let out a short, mocking laugh that didn’t reach my eyes: "I am thirty years old... haven’t you seen that I am too old for your advice?"

He replied with a coldness that provoked my stillness: "You are my son, and you will always remain small in my eyes."

My features tilted toward harshness, and I felt an old bitterness invading my throat, so I said sarcastically: "Shouldn’t you have offered your advice when I needed you as a young child... Father?"

"Robert... you don’t know anything; you don’t know my circumstances," he said, moving his hand on the armrest of his wheelchair in agitation.

I jumped up in my place, feeling the pulse of anger striking my temples: "Your circumstances don’t interest me! You lost your right to be my father... you killed her! Because of you, she died!"

"I didn’t do anything to her!" he replied in a tone that tried to defend itself but sounded shaky.

I exhaled my breath in frustration and stood leaning my hands on the desk, tilting my body toward him: "What brought you here? Come on... I don’t have time."

He asked me about my hatred for Harold and about the loneliness I live in away from the family. A cold and provocative smile formed on my face: "I like my life this way."

I stood up completely and straightened the hem of my suit jacket with total coldness: "I am busy now... I will tell the guards to assist you out of the club." I headed toward the door with rapid strides, but his voice stopped me like an arrow in my back: "Robert... stay away from that girl; love will destroy you."

My hand froze on the door handle for a second, and I swallowed my anger with difficulty without turning to him. I went out and closed the door behind me forcefully. I found "Ron" standing nearby, so I pointed to him sharply, my thumb pointing inside: "Help my father out of the club... now."

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Julie’s Point of View

I was walking back and forth in the room, my rapid steps leaving a rhythmic sound on the wooden floor.

I was biting my nails in tension, feeling a coldness coursing through my limbs whenever I remembered that man’s features: "His father!" My God, how did I fall into this trap? Damn my naivety and my tongue that always precedes my mind.

Suddenly, the door handle vibrated and opened violently, and Robert entered with his massive body that filled the place with prestige and awe.

He closed the door behind him with a single slam that made me jump in my place, and I froze where I stood.

His gaze was sharp as blades, and he said in an commanding and dry tone: "I want to ask you some questions."

I swallowed my saliva with difficulty, feeling my heart drumming against my ribs; did his father tell him everything? Will he crush me now? I nodded slowly, while my hands were trembling behind my back.

"Yesterday at the party... what did you drink?" he asked as he took a step toward me. I raised my gaze to him and answered in a faint voice: "Two glasses of wine."

He narrowed his eyes and asked again, monitoring my facial reaction precisely: "Did you not eat anything else?"

I said quickly: "No, I didn’t." But suddenly, a blurred scene flashed in my memory; that girl and the small candy.

I felt a sting in my stomach and said hesitantly: "I remembered... I only ate a piece of candy... why do you ask?"

His facial expressions changed immediately; his jaw muscles tensed and his eyes flashed with a sharpness that terrified me.

He rushed toward me to stand directly in front of me, then said in a hoarse voice full of threat: "Who gave it to you?"

I said in a trembling tone, trying to feel for the threads of my lost memory: "I don’t know who she is... but Sarah was with me, maybe she knows her."

Robert suddenly turned, heading toward the door with wide strides. I felt a overwhelming desire to confront him before he escaped. I shouted sharply: "Stop! I want to talk to you!"

His massive body stopped, and he turned to me with a cold, brief look, asking: "What?"

I felt the blood flow to my face with an embarrassing heat, and I lowered my gaze to the floor while rubbing my hands in agitation: "Did... did I get drunk yesterday too? I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I remembered that I... that I took off my dress in your room."

Not a single muscle in his face moved, as if he hadn’t heard my shameful confession.

He said with stillness while holding the door handle: "You can rest in the room today; I won’t need you."

I said curtly: "Nothing." I turned to leave, but her next words were like a poisoned dagger plunged into my back; she said in a cold tone: "Julie is asking me about escaping from this place... and she told me that she hates you, and hates being with you."

I stopped in my place, and I felt my saliva dry in my throat until I swallowed it with an unbearable bitterness.

My back muscles tensed, and I clenched my fist until my nails sank into the palm of my hand, and I walked out without looking back. I couldn’t stand the thought that she loathes me to this extent, the thought that my presence beside her represents a burden she cannot bear.

I headed to Nyara’s room and entered like a hurricane. Nyara was shocked; she jumped up and adjusted her sitting position in terror, for I never set foot in the girls’ rooms. She said in a trembling voice: "Good morning, Mr. Robert."

I said in a decisive tone: "Did you give drugs to Julie?"

Tension began to gnaw at her features, and she said in a shaky voice: "You mean the girl with the brown hair and green eyes?"

I nodded sharply, so she said: "Yes, sir."

I asked her as I approached her until I felt her terror: "Why did you give it to her?"

She swallowed and said defensively: "I only offered it to her, and she took it herself."

I said, my eyes piercing hers: "Did you tell her it was drugs?"

She answered in fear: "No... I didn’t."

"Did someone ask you to do that?"

She shook her head quickly: "No, sir. I only offered it to her as I always do with the rest of the girls."

I fixed my gaze on her for seconds in which I felt she would collapse, then I said in a sharp hiss: "Don’t you dare do this again!"

"Yes, sir... I’m sorry."

I went out of the room and felt a suffocating tightness in my chest, as if the air in this club had become heavy and unbearable.

I wiped my face violently, trying to expel the echo of Sarah’s words from my head: "She hates you." I said to myself bitterly, feeling a painful contraction in my heart: "Why do I care... why does it matter to me if Julie hates me?"