My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 267

Chapter 267: 267/Fifteen Days of Hell

Chapter 267:

Julie’s POV

I felt hunger gnawing at my empty stomach with painful pinches, so I ate breakfast with a deadened mechanicalness, like a machine programmed for survival. Then, I went in to bathe. Warm water flowed over my back and the curves of my body, but despite its heat, it couldn’t warm the frozen chill of my soul. My heart was broken, moaning under the weight of disappointment in the man I once thought would be my sanctuary. My feelings were a toxic mixture: oppression pressing against my throat, regret boiling in my chest, and a cursed longing tearing me in two.

I stepped out of the bathroom and dressed with a lifeless body no spirit left in it. I held a book, trying to cram words into a mind that could barely stop asking lethal questions. I turned on music to drown out the silence that had begun to hum in my ears like bees.

I drifted off from sheer psychological exhaustion, only to wake to the usual buzz of the lock and the cook entering with dinner, leaving with an icy silence just as she had entered.

This nightmarish scenario repeated for fifteen consecutive days. Fifteen days, and I was a captive within four walls that began to close in on me until I felt they would crush my bones. Not a single soul entered my room except the cook or the maid who collected my laundry. I was on the absolute brink of madness, pacing the room back and forth like an animal trapped in a cramped cage.

Robert never appeared! Not even a shadow of him! Did he hate me that much? How was he able to excise my existence from his life with such loathsome simplicity? Didn’t he once say he wanted me by his side? I loathed myself; I despised my weakness because I still craved his scent, and because my stupid heart couldn’t tear him from its veins despite the humiliation, despite the prison, and despite this lethal coldness.

The cook entered as usual with dinner and then left; the sound of her footsteps had become an alarm reminding me of the bitterness of my situation. I rose from the bed with a staggering body, eating tasteless bites while staring at the bolted door, waiting for a miracle to free me or an end to relieve me of this constant bleeding.

I went into the bathroom to bathe again. Standing under the water had become a ritual twice a day just to delude myself into thinking I had changed my location, as if the flow of water was my only means of escaping the bars of this room. I turned on the faucet and stood under the spray, letting the water wash over my exhausted body.

Then, memory began to play its dirty game. I remembered the heat of his kisses that used to burn my skin, the rough touch of his hand that used to drive me wild, and his husky whispers in my ear that made my heart dance with joy... I remembered how he used to fuck me with violence and passion, and how he would later hold me in his powerful arms, so I would bury my head in his broad chest and sleep, feeling that the whole world couldn’t touch me.

My tears began to flow profusely, mingling with the bathwater sliding down my face. I could no longer bear this distance; I could no longer stand living in this desolate void... How was he able to stay away from me all this time without even blinking? How?

I turned off the water with a stifled sob, my breath trembling in my chest. As I reached out a shaking hand to grab the towel, the bathroom door suddenly burst open with a resounding bang as it hit the wall.

Robert stood there, transfixed at the entrance like a nightmarish ghost. My entire body froze, and the blood stopped in my veins. I stood there completely naked, my limbs trembling from the sudden chill and the sheer shock, while he stared at me with predatory eyes.

His gaze was devouring every inch of my wet body.

The heavy scent of liquor wafted from him with a suffocating intensity, mingled with the smell of tobacco clinging to his clothes, filling the corners of the cramped bathroom with that confusing masculine aroma. My voice trembled, coming out fractured as I tried to cover my body with my hands. "What... what are you doing here?"

He didn’t utter a word immediately. Instead, he began to approach me with slow, calculated, and threatening steps, like a tiger. He fixed his gaze deep into my green eyes. I felt his hot breath, laced with alcohol, brush against my face. Then he spoke in a husky voice, thick with intoxication, pain, and lethal longing: "I missed your green eyes so much... I missed them to the point where I almost burned this club and everyone in it."

I felt the cold air touch my wet skin like the blade of a knife, while the heat of his breath fanned my face, scorching my skin.

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