My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 277

Chapter 277: 277/The Awakening of Violet’s Blood

Chapter 277

Julie’s POV

My breath was racing in my chest as if I had run a mile, while my trembling hands refused to steady. I stood before Sarah’s door, hearing faint whispers, suspicious movements. Robert was inside... the man who took my virginity, the man who convinced me I was the "only one" in his life, was now fucking Sarah behind this deaf wooden door. He showed no regard for my existence; he didn’t hesitate to break my heart as if I were an insignificant insect. With an unbearable coldness, he tried to toss me onto the shelves of oblivion, as if I were merely a bitter experiment that expired after he took from me the most precious thing I owned.

I froze in my place. I felt as if time had suddenly stopped; the air around my lungs turned into polar frost, and I hardened until I became like a statue of ice in a desolate hallway. My ability to speak vanished; even the scream died in my throat. I didn’t know how many minutes or perhaps hours passed while I was in that tragic state, but I ended up collapsing onto the cold floor of the hallway, my eyes vacant, fixed on the silver doorknob, watching it as if it were a beast about to prey on me.

I wasn’t crying; the tears had dried in my eyes. I didn’t move, I didn’t scream. My soul had deserted my body, leaving behind a hollow human shell, a lifeless corpse that could only hear the sound of his footsteps behind the door. My sick imagination was painting hideous pictures for me, fantasies gnawing at my mind and depicting every detail of what was happening inside every movement, every moan, was falling on my heart like hammer blows.

After an eternity of torment, the sound of the lock clicking echoed. The door opened, and Robert stepped out. Our gazes met; features of surprise mingled with indifference were etched on his face, as if he hadn’t just committed a crime against my feelings. He closed the door behind him with a provocative calmness and walked down the hallway with steady, cold steps.

My broken eyes followed him as he ascended the stairs, his broad back moving away from me without turning even once, as if I didn’t exist. I tried to rise, to scream at him, to gather my scattered pride, but my body was paralyzed, inhabited by a heavy betrayal.

Suddenly, I felt a warm, tender touch settle on my shoulder. I startled in terror before slowly raising my head. Max was standing over me, his features reflecting genuine concern. He embraced me tightly with his strong arms, as if trying to collect my scattered pieces, and whispered in a tone full of eagerness: "Oh Julie... finally... I was afraid you’d stay locked in that room for too long."

I tried to speak, but my voice came out husky and rough, as if stones blocked my throat: "Max... tell me... are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

He answered while patting my hair reassuringly: "I’m fine, Julie, don’t worry about me. The important thing is that you’re here."

I whispered with an exhaustion gnawing at my bones: "Good... that’s good."

He looked deep into my eyes with a focus that made me feel exposed, and said with a concern he couldn’t hide: "Julie, you’re not okay. You look strange... pale, as if you’ve seen a ghost."

I swallowed my lump and tried to gather the remaining atoms of my pride, saying with a stutter: "It’s nothing... nothing is wrong... just exhaustion. Tell me... did you speak with Steve?"

He extended his hand to help me up. My hand trembled in his before I stood staggeringly and leaned on him.

He said in a serious tone: "Get up, the floor is no place for you to sit... come, let’s go to my room. It’s not safe to talk here." I walked with him with staggering steps, every step reminding me of their betrayals, until we reached his room and he closed the door. He breathed a sigh of relief and said: "I went to Steve. I told him literally everything you asked of me. The man was out of his mind, roaring like a madman.

He gave me his number and urged me to tell you to contact him immediately. He calls me ten times a day asking about you."

A spark of eagerness ignited in my eyes, and I said in a trembling voice: "Please... give me your phone. I need to hear his voice now."

Max dialed the number with focus, then placed the phone in my hands. My hand was shaking over the screen. As soon as I put the phone to my ear and heard the familiar rasp of his voice, the dam of my patience collapsed: "Hello... Steve?"

His voice came to me like a cry of relief amidst the storm: "Oh Julie! Julie? Thank God... I was like a madman, I was on the verge of storming that club and blowing it up over their heads to get you out!"

I tried to calm him, mixing my fear with a feigned coldness: "Steve, please calm down, I’m fine... I’m not in danger. Just don’t do anything reckless."

He asked me with a sharpness that cut my breath: "Julie, enough lies! What happened there? When will you get out of that hell?"

I said hesitantly, looking at Max who was watching me warily: "I’ll get out... very soon. I just need some time."

He said with an insistence that accepted no argument: "I will help you. I’ll come myself to get you out."

I said firmly, trying to hide my brokenness: "No, Steve, stay away... I don’t want to get Max into trouble because of me. I’m going to hang up now."

He whispered with a painful love: "Julie, please... take good care of yourself."

I sought comfort on my wide bed, but my body was exhausted in a way that pillows couldn’t cure. I was lying there feeling the weight of the whole world on my chest. I closed my eyes, and memories of the past hours raged in my mind like a sandstorm. The image of that bitter brokenness I caught in Julie’s eyes haunted me behind my closed eyelids like a ghost that refused to leave.

I couldn’t get the sight of her standing shattered behind the door out of my mind; her features were screaming with the ache I had caused.

At that moment, my heart squeezed with a longing to see her; I wanted so badly to run to her, to lock my arms around her waist and bury my face in her neck, telling her with all honesty that I hadn’t touched Sarah... that I couldn’t even kiss her because Julie’s ghost was blocking the faces of all women from me.

But my cursed pride and that poisonous past that taught me never to show weakness stood between me and the truth; they prevented me from being a simple man defending his love.

"She is surely drowning in her tears now," I told myself bitterly. I imagined her collapsed in her dark room, squeezing her pillow, thinking I had betrayed her with utter cold-bloodedness, that I had replaced her with that whore in a moment of recklessness.

A cold shiver shook my limbs when a terrifying thought struck me, a thought that froze the blood in my veins: Could Julie, with that delicate soul of hers, do something bad to herself? Could despair drive her to kill herself?

My heart began to drum against my ribs with violence and madness. I exhaled in frustration and said aloud: "Damn it... I can’t stay like this... maybe I should go check on her, just make sure she’s still breathing."

Before I could rise or even push the covers off my body, the unthinkable happened. The bedroom door suddenly burst open with a force that made my heart leap from its place. Julie entered, but she wasn’t the Julie I knew. Her face was rigid, devoid of any human expression, as if carved from solid rock on a stormy night. Her eyes were gleaming with a strange light, a terrifying brilliance I had never seen in her before, as if she had drawn her strength from the fires of hell.

Her hair was falling in a scattered, rebellious way over her shoulders, adding to the ferocity of her appearance in that moment. But what paralyzed my movement completely was that thing she was gripping in her hand... a cold grey metallic glint shining under the dim lamp light. It was a pistol!

She raised her hand with a steadiness that terrified me a steadiness I hadn’t seen and pointed the barrel of the pistol at me.

Every cell in my body froze, and I felt a complete stiffness in my limbs as if I had turned into a stone statue before her will. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry; instead, she said in a sharp tone, steady as a knife’s edge, and devoid of any tremor or hesitation:

"Answer me honestly, Robert... did you fuck Sarah?"