My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273: 273/The Seeds of Doubt

Chapter 273:

Julie’s POV

What my eyes were landing on wasn’t just an ugly scene; it was a living nightmare that transcended the limits of the human mind. The gym, once a symbol of strength and activity, had been transformed in the blink of an eye into a human slaughterhouse reeking of the metallic scent of death. Body parts were scattered across the hall with a nausea-inducing brutality; a severed hand lying near the weights, and a leg detached from its pelvis as if it were a piece of meat in a blood-soaked butchery.

I didn’t know where I drew that suicidal courage to take another step, while my feet trembled as if the ground beneath them were collapsing. My gaze stumbled upon a disfigured mass of flesh in the center of the hall... it was a human abdomen, brutally ripped open and tossed there like trash. A bitter nausea tore through my vitals, and a burning in my stomach nearly forced me to vomit, but a lethal curiosity pulled me further in. As I drew closer, the bitter truth struck me; a severed head had been placed with sick care, as if it were a warning message... it was the head of the guard, "Diego." His features, frozen in terror, and his bulging eyes told the story of his final agony.

A thunderous scream erupted from me that I couldn’t suppress, a scream that shattered the silence of that desolate place. I rushed out of the hall, running frantically, not knowing how my weak legs were carrying me as the frailty gnawed at my knees. That hideous sight, and the image of Diego’s head, kept repeating before my eyes as if branded into my memory with fire. I ran upstairs, panting like a drowning person, trying to escape that image... My God! How could a human do this? And why Diego, specifically?

Suddenly, my heart contracted with a force that made my breath stop, and a black terror seized me at a thought that crossed my mind. I whispered in a terrified, trembling voice: "Max!" Could his fate be the same as Diego’s? Had Robert’s madness and harm reached him? I climbed to the floor where Robert’s suite was located, my body convulsing with an unceasing shudder. I pushed the office door open with force, but emptiness was my only answer. I headed with frantic desperation toward his private room.

I pushed the door open and entered. I was greeted by the dog, "Axel," who came running toward me, wagging his tail with a joy that was oblivious to the magnitude of the death surrounding us. I said to him with shortness of breath, my chest heaving violently: "I’m sorry, Axel... we have to postpone this hug for later, I’m not okay." I ventured further inside. Robert was standing before the large mirror, in total calm and coldness, adjusting his new black suit.

He looked at me through the reflection, his features hardening with indifference, then spoke in a deep, resonant voice: "Did I leave the door open for you so you could dare to barge into my room like this?"

I asked him, tears obscuring my vision, my voice trembling like a taut string: "Max... where is he, Robert? Where is Max?"

He said, while adjusting his crisp shirt collar with an irritating coldness: "And why am I supposed to know the location of a guard who works for me every second of the day?"

I shouted at him with a muffled cry filled with oppression: "Answer me, Robert! Did you hurt him? Is he imprisoned in some cellar? What did you do to him? Is he alive?"

He turned toward me slowly, his sharp gaze piercing my flushed face. He said in a skeptical tone: "And why are you so interested in this guard to this extent? What is the secret behind this panic for him?"

I said with pleading and brokenness: "Robert... please, don’t increase my agony... where is he?"

He took a step toward me, pressing his words with sharpness: "You answer first... why do you care about a simple guard so much? What ties you to him?"

I said in a husky voice filled with honesty and despair: "He is my friend..."

He looked away from me with disdain, returned to checking his attire, and said in a definitive tone of dismissal: "I don’t know where he is... Now, get out of my room immediately."

I asked him, the tremors controlling every inch of my body: "Was it you who did that... to Diego?"

He replied with a question as cold as ice, looking into the mirror: "And what took you there in the first place?"

I said in shock and disbelief: "How could you? How could you do that hideous thing to him?"

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