My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 294

Chapter 294: 294/A Lullaby for the Dead

Chapter 294:

Steve’s POV

I recoiled two steps, as though her hysterical scream were a physical blade plunged straight into my chest. The words froze solid in my throat as I watched her slender, trembling fingers button that tiny blue woolen sweater over the pale, motionless body. The sight of her treating a cold corpse with such meticulous care and absolute denial tore at the very fibers of my heart, dragging me closer to the brink of madness. I turned slowly toward the door of the room only to find the doctor and two nurses standing there, their features completely draped in grimness and profound pity. They had held back from storming the room by force after witnessing the sheer emotional fury and acute denial that had taken absolute possession of Julie.

The doctor advanced with extremely slow, calculated steps, gesturing with her index finger toward the corridor. She spoke in a barely audible whisper, breathing the words directly into my ear: "Please, Mr. Steve, step out into the hallway with me for a few seconds. We need to speak immediately regarding your sister’s condition."

I cast one final, terror-stricken look at Julie, who in that exact moment was leaning her head down to press a warm, lingering kiss against the baby’s frozen forehead. Then, I followed the doctor outside with stumbling steps, feeling as though I were walking toward my own execution scaffold. The moment we pulled the wooden door shut behind us, the doctor turned to me, her eyes carrying a genuine sorrow. She pulled her medical glasses off with a heavy sigh, addressing me in a strict, grave tone: "Your sister is experiencing an acute psychological trauma known as defensive denial. Her mind is completely refusing to process the catastrophe in order to shield itself from an absolute breakdown. But this situation cannot persist. The baby’s body must be transferred to the morgue to complete the official procedures; keeping him here poses a catastrophic psychological danger to her."

I wiped my face with both of my trembling palms, pressing hard against my eyes to stop the tears from cascading once more. My voice emerged raspy, cracked, and thoroughly broken: "And what the fuck am I supposed to do, Doctor?! Didn’t you hear her screaming?! She is ready to kill me or anyone else who tries to wrench that little boy from her hands... I am terrified for her. I am terrified she will lose her sanity entirely if we resort to force."

The doctor placed her palm over my forearm, answering with an exhausted yet rational composure: "We won’t use brute force that will only worsen her state and might trigger a hysterical panic attack that could break her. Instead, you must play along with her for a while. Try to exploit any moment of distraction or sleep to take the body. Meanwhile, we will administer a powerful sedative through her IV so she sleeps, and hopefully, she will wake up once the initial severity of the shock has receded."

I nodded my head in weak, helpless surrender, then with a bowed frame, I traced my steps back inside the room. Julie had completely finished dressing him in his full woolen attire. She had placed him on her lap as she sat upon the edge of the bed, trailing her hand with supreme gentleness over the locks of his fine black hair. She was humming an old, warm melody to him in a low, cracked whisper, as though she were living in a parallel universe where we didn’t exist.

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Julie’s POV

Everything that occupied my mind and heart in those fleeting moments was Ethan. Look at him how dare they fucking say he is dead?! His features are so delicate, so incredibly beautiful. He possesses my exact little nose; he is merely drowned in a deep sleep after the torment we endured together during those grueling hours of labor.

I leaned my back into the white pillow, cradling him directly over my chest where my heart pulsed, feeling a consuming desire to warm him with every shred of breath and life I had left. I turned toward Steve, who had re-entered the room with stalling steps, his eyes heavily swollen from that pathetic, ridiculous crying.

I said to him in a calm tone that nevertheless carried a laced, undercurrent warning: "Sit here, Steve, and don’t start repeating those goddamn lies again... look, I’ve dressed him in his blue woolen sweater, and he is perfectly warm now, isn’t he?"

Steve advanced and sat on the edge of the adjacent stool, attempting to forge a smile over contorted facial features that looked ready to burst with grief. He muttered in a choked voice: "Yes, Julie... he... he looks very warm and comfortable in these clothes."

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