My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 190

Chapter 190: 190/Looking for a Weakness

Chapter 190

Steve’s Point of View

I stood before the massive gates of Robert Cross’s company, a monument that reflected his sheer influence and power.

I felt the cold air brush against my face as I contemplated the building, thinking about Jake’s words the man Jake claims set a trap for him. I sighed deeply, trying to push the doubts out of my head, then entered the company with hesitant steps.

I headed straight to the reception desk. There was a girl there, so I approached her and spoke in a tone I tried to make sound confident. "Hello, miss. May I meet with Mr. Robert Cross?"

She lifted her head with a formal smile. "Hello, sir. Do you have an appointment with him?"

"No, I don’t," I said seriously. "But it’s an urgent matter."

"I’m sorry," she apologized with a dry politeness. "You cannot meet him without a prior appointment."

I tried to persist, feeling a slight tension tingle at my fingertips. "Can you at least ask him?"

"No, sir," she replied firmly. "He has many meetings right now and is not available at all."

"Is there any way to meet him?" I asked with a quiet desperation.

She handed me a piece of paper and a pen. "Write your full name here and your phone number. If I can arrange an appointment for you, I’ll call you."

I took the pen and quickly recorded my name, surname, and number. I thanked her and left.

As I walked down the street, I felt a heavy weight in my chest; I don’t think Jake is telling the truth. Why would someone of Robert Cross’s status and power plant drugs on Jake? It doesn’t make any sense.

Suddenly, I remembered my sister, Julie. My heart constricted at her memory, and a burning lump formed in my throat. How I long to hold her, just as I did when we were children. I closed my eyes for a moment, summoning her laughter in my mind.

I wish time had frozen in those days, where I’d never have to part from her, I thought bitterly. I wiped my face, trying to gather my strength, and continued on my way, the pain of her absence wringing my heart.

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Don Morgan’s Point of View

I knocked on the door forcefully. The maid opened it, trembling. "Hello, sir... who are you?" she stammered.

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I shoved the door with my shoulder and walked in with a coldness that made her gasp in terror. "Sir... you can’t just enter like this!" she cried, rushing after me.

I walked with steady steps toward the hall and saw him there... slumped in his wheelchair like a lifeless corpse. "It’s alright, Nerda," Thomas said in his frail voice. "You may go."

I looked at him with biting sarcasm. "Dear, crippled Thomas... you can’t even stand up to greet me, can you?"

I headed toward him and sat on the luxurious sofa, crossing my legs with pride. "What brought you to my house, Morgan?" he asked, his eyes flashing with sparks.

"I came to visit and see how you suffer while you can’t walk," I said with a cold smile.

He exhaled in annoyance. "Enough of this. Tell me, what is the reason you’ve come to my house after all these years?"

I straightened my posture and spoke in a firm tone. "Your dear son, Robert, kidnapped my assistant, ’The Snake’."

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