My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 357

Chapter 357: 357/I Am No Angel of Mercy

Chapter 357

Julie’s point of view

Thomas shifted his head with an agonizing slowness, interlocking his slender fingers as he delivered in a faint, continuous tone that carried a bizarre sorrow alien to his cruel nature: "I have a small grandson in the spring of his life... his name is Adam."

In that fleeting second the words left his mouth, I felt a sudden, violent, and burning constriction squeeze the walls of my heart with immense force. The air dried out and froze within my chest for a moment, and the heat of apprehension and burning doubt surged through my veins while my mind screamed with that cursed question that nearly killed me: *Does Robert have a son?! Did Robert father a child with alternative women after my absence and our separation?!*

I fought with superhuman effort to stabilize the edge of my voice and prevent my tones from fracturing despite the terror and hidden jealousy devouring me. I uttered with caution and dryness: "Your grandson? And who exactly is this little one?"

He twisted his mouth in complete serenity, pursuing in the same low pace: "He is Harold’s son... my eldest son and Robert’s brother. He is his firstborn child."

At that exact millisecond, I let out a highly audible, clear sigh of relief. The knotted muscles of my shoulders slowly unraveled as though a mountain had been lifted off my chest. I genuinely could not have tolerated or comprehended the notion of Robert possessing a child from an alternative female in this life.

Even if I harbored toward him on the surface all this hatred, resentment, and black malice in my depths, I simply could not tolerate the thought.

I rapidly returned to my customary cold detachment, asking in a dry tone devoid of interest: "And what do I have to do with this grandson of yours or Harold’s son, Mr. Thomas? Why are you reciting your family history to me?"

He looked directly into the absolute depths of my eyes with a terrifying focus, uttering with a nerve-shredding calmness: "He is exactly three years old... a small child who has witnessed nothing of the world yet."

The absolute millisecond he uttered his number and age, a burning lightning bolt of buried memories struck my mind. The strings of my chest vibrated with an ancient, lethal agony, and in the darkness of my memory, the image of my departed child, Ethan, materialized before me. If my son and the apple of my eye were alive and breathing in my hands today, he would also be exactly three years old now.

My sorrowful thoughts were severed by Thomas’s rough voice as he completed in the same grave tone: "And he is exceptionally ill, indeed. He suffers from an intractable problem and failure in his liver functions. The medical team supervising his condition has informed us that his health status may deteriorate dangerously and rapidly in the next few months if we do not discover a solution."

Despite all my detachment and the manufactured cruelty I had discovered within myself with Jake, a feeling of pure sorrow, pity, and mercy toward that innocent little one seeped into my core. I stated in a low tone: "I wish him a speedy recovery and survival, but..."

He sighed with a heavy, genuine helplessness that displayed his vulnerability, pursuing: "The doctor has demanded of us in a firm, definitive manner that we locate a donor with a suitable liver segment as rapidly as humanly possible for a transplant. Otherwise, his condition will take a critical turn in a few months, and he will slip into a complete coma and a state of toxicity from which he may never awaken."

I stiffened my posture across the velvet sofa, narrowing my eyes in deep questioning and suspicion: "I am truly sorry for the little one’s affliction... but until this very second, I do not understand or comprehend what exactly it is you want from me in this regard?"

His jaw moved with a lethal bitterness, and he stated as helplessness spoke from his dark eyes: "To our immense, lethal misfortune... my son Harold and his wife do not match his blood type in the slightest, nor does my son Robert match him in any shape or form of the tests we have executed."

I remained as silent as a stone, listening to the hiss of his words and tones with a deadly calmness, wanting to discover where this suspicious conversation would ultimately lead and what the objective was. He completed, anchoring his dark eyes onto the expressions of my face with a hidden plea: "I have personally reviewed your old medical file, carefully preserved within the vaults of the club’s records... and you match the blood type and tissues of my small grandson, Adam, in an ideal, highly successful, and exceptionally rare manner."

My pupils widened slightly in shock, and my hand clenched with immense force over the fabric of the armrest until my knuckles turned white. I stated in a sharp bewilderment, trying to process the words: "Are you... are you demanding that I donate a segment of my own liver to your grandson?! Is this the favor?!"

He nodded his head with finality, his eyes welling with tears for the very first time: "Precisely... this is the sole request and favor for which I have come here personally, defying my own physical helplessness."

I let out a mocking laugh, filled to the absolute brim with bitterness, derision, and overflowing resentment. I stood up to my full, slender height to look down upon him from above with a violent anger that fanned his face: "After all these cursed, cruel years... you come crawling to me now and demand this with such sheer audacity and shamelessness?! After all those insults and filthy, degrading slurs?! Now you remember Julie!"

He didn’t move an inch in his chair despite my rebellion and screaming in his face. Instead, he asked with a serenity that dripped with reproach, playing masterfully on the strings of my emotions: "Do you not possess a heart pulsing with mercy inside your chest, Julie? Can you truly, due to the disputes of the past, abandon a small child of this tender age to die a slow death when he is in the absolute direst need of your assistance?"

I waved my palm through the air in an overflowing outburst, the veins of my neck protruding sharply: "That is entirely aside from the fundamental and critical issue here, Mr. Thomas! I am no fool for you to manipulate my emotions with such ease! What my mind utterly fails to comprehend or believe is how I of all people, across the vast expansions of the earth, crossed your mind after all these years? I find this matter highly bizarre, suspicious, and absolutely dripping with a conspiracy!"

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