My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 35

Chapter 35: 35/The emerald dress

Chapter 35

Julie’s Point of View

Sam finished gathering his tools, took one last look at my perfectly pinned hair, and said with a faint smile,

"Good luck, Julie."

I gave him a mysterious smile and thought to myself:

’That is exactly what I need luck... to stand by my side so that this night passes as I have planned, not as your master did’

The moment he closed the door behind him, I felt the weight of the scissors in my trouser pocket; they were calling to me.

I reached out to take them out, wanting to feel their cold texture, but I returned them to their place with the speed of light when I heard the doorknob move again.

Olivia entered, her gaze scanning me with insolence, walking around me as if inspecting a flaw in expensive merchandise.

She said in a tone dripping with venom,

"Despite the brilliance of Patricia and Sam, you still look like a wild sow."

At that moment, I felt the pulse of the scissors in my pocket tempting my hand to move; my imagination was painting a bloody scene where I plunged them into her neck to silence that damned tongue forever.

But I took a deep breath and controlled my nerves; my dignity tonight would not be reclaimed with blood, but with intelligence.

I replied to her with a provocative calmness and a cold smile,

"Yes, Olivia... I was going to say that you suffer from vision problems, perhaps because you received a powerful blow to your head that blurred your insight."

Then I let out a short, mocking laugh and continued,

"But I remembered... you actually did receive a powerful blow to your head, didn’t you?"

I saw her face flush crimson, and the veins in her neck bulge with rage. She realized I was insulting her by mentioning the "incident" that had diminished her prestige before me.

Olivia approached me with threatening steps, her eyes burning with deep-seated malice, and said in a low voice carrying a tone of real threat,

"You will pay dearly for that blow, Julie... but make sure you are able to afford its cost."

I looked at her with a solid coldness she didn’t expect and said briefly,

"Don’t worry about me."

She extended her hand toward me; she was holding something shining under the light a golden mask studded with small, delicate jewels, designed strangely to cover the upper part of the face. She said commandingly,

"Wear this mask."

Confusion seized me, and I asked with disapproval,

"Why?"

She looked at me with scorn, pointed her finger toward the bandage on my face, and said,

"Do you really expect Mr. Robert to let you climb his stage with a disfigured face?"

I squeezed my hand so hard that my nails dug into my palm; my face is not disfigured, and this wound has only increased my determination.

Then she added with unparalleled insolence,

"The little monster must hide its face."

I couldn’t bear her words; I felt a volcano exploding in my chest. I struck her hand violently, causing the golden mask to fall to the floor with a sharp ring, and I screamed in her face,

"I am not a monster!"

She smiled coldly, enjoying the breakdown of my nerves, and said with spite,

"Don’t lose your temper, little one, for you have a party tonight."

She turned to leave the room, but stopped at the door and threw her final words like bullets:

"Put the dress on now, there isn’t much time left... and don’t forget the mask."

The door closed behind her, leaving the echo of her words ringing in the empty room.

I looked at the golden mask lying on the floor, then at the backless emerald dress on the bed, and finally felt the scissors residing in my pocket.

"Monster?"

I whispered to myself, anger turning into a cold, calculating energy.

"I’ll show you who the real monster is, Olivia... and I’ll show you, Robert, how this ’monster’ can tear your perfect show to shreds."

I rushed toward the bed and grabbed the dress. The zero hour had struck, and I had only a few minutes before they returned to collect me.

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