My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 284

Chapter 284: 284/The Sound of Survival

Chapter 284:

Julie’s POV

I stepped across the threshold of the apartment, feeling a weight pulling my body toward the ground. It wasn’t just my feet carrying me; a mountain of worries and regret sat upon my shoulders. I didn’t feel well at all; my body trembled with a frailty I had never known, as if the blood had been drained, leaving my veins as cold as ice. We rode the taxi in a stifling silence, and when we reached the clinic, I felt the gazes of passersby and patients piercing me like needles. Their looks were filled with wonder and curiosity, as if I were an alien that had just landed among them because of this concealing black garment.

But I pulled my cloak tightly around me and paid them no mind; this blackness wasn’t just fabric it was my only shield, my fortified fortress preventing Robert’s eyes and his men from identifying me.

As we walked down the long corridor that reeked of disinfectants, I turned toward my brother and asked in a troubled whisper, my heart pounding violently behind my ribs: "Steve... did you put my real name in the reception records?"

He shook his head and reassured me in a low tone, trying to calm my terror: "Don’t worry, Julie, I didn’t... I used our mother’s maiden name to ensure total secrecy."

I breathed a small sigh of relief, my trembling fingers clutching the edges of my long robe: "Good... that’s much better. I don’t want my name in any medical or legal record that man might reach."

Steve placed his hand on my shoulder and patted it affectionately: "Everything will be alright. I’m with you, and I’ll never leave you alone."

We sat on the cold waiting chairs, tension gnawing at my nerves piece by piece. I tapped my foot incessantly, my eyes fixed on the clock. Suddenly, a nurse came out and called the alias Steve had provided. I stood up immediately, feeling as if I were awaiting an execution. In that moment, Steve grabbed my hand firmly and squeezed, saying: "I’m with you... remember that."

We entered the doctor’s office. The moment his eyes fell on me, I saw his features freeze for a second. He seemed stunned by the mysterious shape of my black covering, but he quickly recovered with high professionalism and motioned toward the chairs: "Please, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable."

The doctor began flipping through some papers, then directed routine questions about the date of my last period and whether I had thought deeply about the decision to abort. I answered with a forced stoicism, my voice sounding strange to me as if it were coming from a deep, lifeless well: "I’m completely sure, Doctor... I want to end this."

The doctor nodded and said in a businesslike tone: "Very well. Please get onto the examination table and lie on your back. First, we must see the fetus via ultrasound to confirm its age and position. Usually, the abortion will be via medication since the pregnancy is still in its early stages, but the scan is indispensable."

I climbed onto the table, my body as stiff as a plank of wood. With a shaking hand, I lifted the black robe off my stomach. In that moment, I caught a look of bewilderment in the doctor’s eyes; beneath that blackness, I was wearing blue denim shorts and a crop top that exposed my belly, making my appearance a stark contradiction to the external modesty imposed by the niqab. He didn’t comment, however, and applied a cold gel to my skin that sent shivers through my entire body.

He began moving the transducer over my belly, his eyes fixed on the small screen before him, while I stared at a large monitor on the wall showing the black-and-white details of my womb.

The doctor pointed his finger at a very small dot on the screen and said: "Look here... that tiny dot is the fetus."

My eyes locked onto it; it was exceedingly small, appearing fragile and weak amidst that void. Then the doctor added suddenly: "We can also hear its heartbeat now. Would you like to?"

Before I could answer, a loud, fast sound filled the room... Thump-thump... thump-thump. It was a real heartbeat loud, echoing, and pulsing with life and persistence. In that moment, it felt as if a lightning bolt hit my chest. Conflicting emotions clashed violently inside me, and a lump choked my throat. How could this tiny thing possess a heart that beats with such strength?

"The fetus is exactly 8 weeks old," the doctor said, noting down some observations.

I began calculating the time in my head with utter shock. This meant I didn’t get pregnant the last time Robert fucked me, but the time before that! I whispered in shock: "Eight weeks? Two whole months? But I didn’t feel any symptoms or nausea until yesterday!"

The doctor replied while wiping the gel from my belly: "That’s quite possible and normal. Many women don’t show symptoms until late, or they are completely hidden at first." He continued seriously: "Now we will conduct a quick blood test. Once the results confirm you’re cleared, I will give you the abortion pills."

I nodded and said in a faint voice: "Alright... as you see fit." The nurse entered and drew a blood sample, then I went out with Steve to wait in the lobby again.

We sat on those cold chairs, a silence as heavy as mountains between us. Steve watched me out of the corner of his eye until he asked, his voice full of concern and confusion: "Julie... after what you saw and heard... are you still sure of your decision?"

I couldn’t answer immediately. Since I saw that little dot, and since the sound of that beating heart permeated my depths, all my convictions were blurred. It was no longer about getting rid of a "thing"; it was about a "life."

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