My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 293

Chapter 293: 293/Mangled Sanity

Chapter 293:

Julie’s POV

I opened my eyelids with extreme slowness, a leaden heaviness weighing them down as if they were crafted from iron. I felt a monstrous burden, a suffocating nightmare anchoring itself entirely upon my chest. With weak, fading fingers, I felt the sheets around me, moving sluggishly and in agonizing pain across the cold white mattress, only to find myself lying in that desolate, haunting medical room.

Turning my head, I saw my brother Steve sitting directly beside me on a metal stool. His face was starkly pale, completely drained of blood as if he were a ghost. The moment I awoke, his eyes locked onto mine, a violent crimson ring surrounding his pupils. He spoke in a hoarse, fractured voice that dragged itself from a dry throat: "Julie... thank God you’re safe."

I swallowed the dry saliva that scorched my throat like ash, looking around with a consuming eagerness, my heart racing wildly. I spoke in a frantic pitch: "Steve... where is my baby? Where is my beloved son? Bring him to me."

Steve went completely silent, his movements locking up entirely. A strange, ambiguous, and terrifying expression settled over his features, sending a sharp, icy shiver running through my limbs, causing my heart to clench in a nameless dread. Tightening my weak grip on the white sheet surrounding me, I spoke in a sharp, tense, and elevated tone: "Steve! What is wrong with you, looking at me as if a catastrophe has struck? Answer me right now, where is my little boy?!"

He leaned his frame toward me, attempting to grasp my cold hands to steady them, speaking in a pleading, tearful voice: "Please, Julie... calm down now and don’t move. Just rest a bit and regain your strength first."

In that critical second, a mother’s intuition flared within me, whispering that something was wrong something monumental, a black tragedy he was desperately trying to shield from my consciousness, refusing to utter it.

I forced my torso up, pressing my hands against the mattress to compel my body into a sitting position despite the sharp, hacking pain that gnawed at my lower abdomen, tearing my insides apart. I said in a trembling voice packed with suspicion: "Where is Ethan? Why isn’t he lying right beside me like the rest of the babies? Why isn’t his little bassinet here in the room?! Tell me!"

Steve bowed his head downward, evading the confrontation of my gaze, his shoulders shaking as he muttered through a burning lump in his throat: "Julie... please, just listen to me slowly."

I cried out, my eyes widening in a mind-numbing panic that stole my breath: "What?! Speak without these fucking preludes!"

He averted his face entirely toward the closed window, the stuttering words breaking from his trembling lips like a thunderbolt striking my ears: "Your son... he was born dead... he never breathed."

My son was born dead? A piece of my soul, born without life?! My son, whom I waited for through all those agonizing months?!

Every muscle and vein in my body turned to stone, and my vision blurred for a few moments as if the room were collapsing over my head. But I quickly shook that cursed thought from my skull, clenching my jaw with a stubborn, hard resolve. I said in a harsh, flat tone: "Steve, do not play such a pathetic, tasteless joke on me at a time like this! Now move, and bring me my son right now!"

His eyes filled with a heavy rush of tears that cascaded over his cheeks, and he said with a faint wail and a broken voice: "Julie... I am not joking, I swear to you... the doctor told me he was born dead... I am so truly sorry, Julie, my heart is breaking for you."

I shook my head in absolute, unyielding refusal, violently kicking off the cotton blanket. I snapped, my voice bouncing off the walls of the room: "You are a liar! My son is alive and well, I can feel his heartbeat! Now bring him to me, Steve, and do not test my fucking patience!"

I lowered my weak, trembling feet off the edge of the bed, standing up onto the cold floor. Though the physical pain was ripping my insides to shreds, forcing me to bend over in broken weakness, I refused to surrender to these illusions. Steve lunged in terror, grabbing both of my arms to halt me from taking a single step, crying out in sheer panic: "Julie, have you lost your goddamn mind?! Get back to bed right now, your body is exhausted and you are completely spent!"

I shoved his hands away from my body with a strange, fierce strength a courage I had never known within myself before. I walked out the door of the room, dragging my heavy, stumbling steps through the long hospital corridor, Steve hot on my heels, desperately trying to stop me and hold me back. I turned to him with features as hard as stone, saying in a strict, unyielding voice: "Take me to where my son is right now... where did they put him?"

He replied in deep grief and sorrow, blocking my path with his broad frame to keep me from moving forward: "There is no point in seeing him now, Julie... your heart won’t be able to bear the sight, please believe me."

I locked my glassy, sharp gaze into the depths of his eyes, speaking in a quiet, cold, and terrifying tone that froze the blood: "Steve... I am not going to repeat myself. Move out of my way."

I didn’t cry, nor did a single tear drop from my eyes. I knew with absolute certainty in the depths of my soul and the folds of my mind that my son was alive and breathing, and that these stupid doctors were simply delusional and knew nothing. I said coldly as I bypassed his exhausted frame, pushing him aside: "You don’t understand a thing, Steve. My son is alive and fine... you just misunderstood the doctor’s words, as you always do."

At that critical juncture, a nurse in blue scrubs blocked my path, saying in an anxious, rattled tone: "Ma’am, please return to your bed immediately!"

I grabbed the nurse’s arm, squeezing her flesh with my fingers with a raw, violent force that made her wince, barking: "Take me to my son, Ethan, right fucking now!"

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