My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 280

Chapter 280: 280/Ashes of Trust

Chapter 280:

Julie’s POV

I was crouching under that massive wooden desk, curling into myself as if trying to vanish into the dust motes. My body was trembling with an uncontrollable violence, my hands pressing against my mouth with a painful force. I was terrified that the sound of my gasps or the chattering of my teeth would betray my location to that hag. In that moment, when I felt my soul was about to depart from sheer terror, Robert’s firm, resonant voice cut through the haunting silence of the room, striking back at Olivia: "What are you doing in my office, Olivia? I didn’t give you permission to enter."

A brief silence ensued before I heard her obvious confusion. Her tone shifted instantly from threat to cheap sycophancy as she replied: "Mr. Robert... my apologies. I only wanted to ask if you wanted me to prepare additional girls for tonight’s party; the customers are increasing."

Robert responded with an icy coldness that signaled total preoccupation, as if her very presence annoyed him: "No, Olivia. Stick to the girls whose names I’ve already specified; those are the ones the clients requested by name. Now... leave."

Her voice came back submissive and defeated: "Yes, sir. As you command."

Then came the sound of her footsteps retreating gradually until the door clicked shut behind her. The weight of the terror inside me didn’t lift; it doubled. Now, I was trapped in one room with the man I feared and loved at once, and I couldn’t crawl out from under his desk because I would have to explain all of this. Suddenly, his phone rang with a monotonous tone, and from my spot, I caught a glimpse of his polished black shoes advancing toward the chair behind the desk.

I crawled with cautious silence, like a snake trying to escape a hunter, toward the farthest dark corner under the desk. Fortunately, the desk was large enough to hide an entire elephant without being noticed.

Robert settled into his chair, and I heard the sound of his breathing before he answered the call in a friendly tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him: "Yes, my friend Lorenzo... welcome." Silence followed for seconds as he listened to the other side, then I felt my heart pound with a violence that nearly tore my ribs when he uttered my name: "Yes... her name is Julie."

I froze in my tracks, the blood turning to ice in my veins. My God! Who was he talking to? And about what? He continued with a soul-killing coldness: "I already sent you her photo so you could see for yourself what I was talking about."

Why was he sending my photo? I felt a chill run from my toes to my heart, as if I were turning into a stone statue.

Suddenly, a light laugh escaped him that shook my being, and he followed mockingly: "Stop the nonsense, Lorenzo. You know me well... I don’t fall into the trap of love so easily. That’s why my decision is in the right place."

The words fell on my ears like lightning bolts burning everything in their path. Was I in a nightmare? Was this the man who was holding me to his chest and swearing his love just hours ago? He added, laughing with a dismissive contempt that stung me: "She’s a poor thing; she doesn’t know a thing about what’s going on around her... I told her I was preparing a surprise for her, and she believed every word. She has no idea what I’m planning."

My heart was tearing apart with every letter he spoke. He deceived me; he used my feelings as bait! He continued in a confident, indisputable tone: "I want you to come tomorrow, Lorenzo. Don’t be late." Then he added crudely: "You’ll definitely like her, I guarantee it... she’s actually far more beautiful than the photo, her features are rare."

My facial muscles spasmed as I tried to prevent my tears from falling and making a sound. What was this monster talking about? He said with a firmness that made my limbs shake: "How can she refuse? She won’t even have the option to refuse. Even if she tries to rebel, I’ll force her."

My God, he’s going to force me! Olivia was right in every word she said. He never loved me; he was just fattening me for the slaughter! I placed both hands over my mouth to stifle the scream of terror and betrayal that wanted to tear from the depths of my throat. Robert concluded his talk with words that were the final nail in the coffin of my rosy dreams: "As I told you, my friend, tomorrow you have to be here, and we’ll agree on the final price then."

Finally, the car stopped in front of the building where my brother lives. I got out eagerly and told the driver: "Wait for me here for just a few minutes; I’ll bring the fare." I ran up the stairs, my heart ahead of my feet. I began knocking on his apartment door with force, one knock after another, with a silent scream in my heart: "Steve, open up! It’s Julie!" But there was no answer. I knocked and knocked, despair gnawing at my heart, but the apartment was drowned in a suspicious silence; it was completely empty. I collapsed onto the floor in front of the door, completely broken, my breath coming out as shattered gasps laden with bitterness.

Suddenly, the lock of the door in the opposite apartment moved, and a dignified man with a long, trimmed beard and calm features stepped out. As soon as his eyes fell on me, he lowered his gaze to the ground quickly and turned his body back inside, calling out: "Salma... put on your hijab and come immediately; there is a girl outside." After a few moments, a woman wrapped entirely in black stepped out; a wide cloak covering her body from head to toe, and a niqab that showed nothing but her eyes.

I was terrified by the sight, so foreign to me. I retreated, asking in a trembling voice full of fear: "Who are you? What do you want from me?" She approached me with calmness and steadiness, saying in a gentle voice full of tenderness: "Don’t be afraid, my daughter. We won’t hurt you... my name is Salma. What happened to you to make you cry like this?"

I tried to stifle my sobs and said with difficulty: "I... I’m looking for my brother, but he’s not here... and the taxi driver is waiting for the fare downstairs, and I have nothing." Salma turned to the man who was still standing with his back turned, looking at the ground with dignity, and said: "Omar... there is a taxi waiting downstairs. Go and pay him his fare." The man nodded and said in a calm tone: "Fine, I’ll do it immediately," then rushed down the stairs.

I looked at her with intense shame and lowered my head: "I... I’m so embarrassed by you. I don’t know how to thank you." Salma placed her warm hand gently on my shoulder and said: "It’s alright, my daughter. People are for people... come with me. Come into my home and rest a little until your brother returns. Sitting here is not good for you."

I said with clear hesitation: "I don’t want to be a burden on you. You’ve done so much." Salma smiled behind her niqab I felt her smile through her eyes and said: "What are you talking about? You are like my daughter... come in."

She helped me up and led me inside her apartment. The moment I crossed the threshold, I inhaled a strong, deep scent a blend of incense and Oriental perfumes whose beauty I had never smelled before. Art pieces hanging on the walls caught my eye, featuring artistic calligraphy in a language I didn’t understand, but it looked sacred and beautiful. She led me into a small, tidy room with a comfortable sofa and said in her calm voice: "Sit here. Take your breath."

I sat on the edge of the sofa, my body still tense, while my eyes watched her clothing with an indescribable curiosity. Why does she hide herself like this? Why all this blackness and mystery? I couldn’t help myself, so I asked with a curiosity mixed with wonder: "Forgive my question... but why do you wear this clothing? Why do you cover your face and body like this? I don’t understand the meaning."