My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56: 57/The price of freedom

Chapter 57:

Robert’s Point of View

I closed the door behind me and walked through the silent corridor, while that single thought gnawed at my head with every step:

"What if I hadn’t opened that door?"

The image of Julie clutching the scissors wouldn’t leave my imagination,

as if the ghost of her lifeless body would have been waiting for me there with the sunrise.

I entered my room with agitated steps and went straight to the small cabinet to take out a bottle of strong alcohol.

I didn’t drink from it; instead, I carried it and headed to the bathroom.

I stood before the sink, leaning my hands on the cold marble, staring at the reflection of my face in the mirror.

I uttered a faint curse directed at my shadow; since when did I care about a girl’s heartbeat? Since when did Robert Cross grant chances for survival?

I was supposed to crush her, to make her an example, not to open a door for her to save her dignity.

I opened the bottle cap, and with one motion, I flipped it over my open wounds.

The transparent liquid poured over my torn knuckles, and a sharp sting of burning surged through my nerves like fire.

I didn’t pull my hand away, and I didn’t close my eyes; instead, I gripped the edges of the sink even harder, enjoying the pain that began to feast on my flesh.

I needed this fire; I needed this sting to perhaps drive out that strange tenderness that had crept into my chest and return me to my cold senses.

The throbbing in my knuckles was a rhythmic reminder of the chaos she brought into my structured life.

I watched the blood mix with the clear liquid, swirling down the drain like the remains of my self-control.

Every sting was a debt she owed me, a price for making me feel a flicker of human fear.

I wasn’t just healing a wound;

I was trying to cauterize the strange, unwanted empathy that had started to fester in my mind since I saw her with that blade.

The next morning, I sat behind my wide desk, with the party arrangement papers scattered before me.

Olivia was standing opposite me, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the bandages wrapped around my hands. I tapped my finger sharply on the wooden desktop, making her recoil.

I said in a dry tone:

"Olivia, are you focusing on the words coming out of my mouth?"

She adjusted her posture tensely, her voice trembling as she tried to recover:

"Yes, Mr. Robert, I am with you."

I pushed the chair back and stood to my full height, gesturing with a firm hand toward the door:

"Then, get to your work immediately."

As soon as the door closed behind her, I headed to my private dressing room.

My eyes wandered between the hanging clothes until they landed on a specific outfit; this was what I had decided Julie would wear to tonight’s party.

I carried it and walked with steady steps through the hallway until I reached her room.

I pushed the door and entered. The bed was made and the room was eerily quiet; she wasn’t there.

I turned toward the closed bathroom door, the faint sound of water behind it indicating her presence.

My eyes fell on the bookshelf and the desk Carlos had filled the corner of the room with, and a sarcastic smile formed on my lips.

I never imagined that a man of his stature would sink to the level of gifting a child a collection of papers and shelves.

I pulled the chair and sat behind the desk, crossing one ankle over the other as I waited.

On the desktop, a single paper caught my eye; there was one sentence written in a hesitant hand:

"Life gives nothing for free."

I tapped my nails on the wood, muttering to myself:

"You’re right, Julie, and today you will pay the price for your survival... we shall see if your conscience can bear the weight of this price."

The click of the bathroom lock broke the silence of the room.

I turned the chair slowly at the moment she appeared.

She was wrapping a white towel around her body, and water droplets made their way from her wet hair to glide over the pale skin of her arms.

She moved naturally for seconds before raising her gaze; as soon as our eyes met, her features froze, then she recoiled with lightning speed and slammed the door shut.

Her voice came from behind the door, sharp and loud:

"What are you doing here? Get out of my room now!"

She continued shouting from behind the wood:

"Go on, get out! I need to get dressed!"

My eyebrow rose in astonishment; who was she to order me to leave my property? But, with an involuntary motion, I found my body standing up.

I stepped out of the room and stood in the hallway, leaning my back against the wall beside the door as if I were waiting for official permission to enter.

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes angrily, lit one, and drew a deep breath until its embers glowed, then exhaled the smoke heavily,

trying to drive away the idea that I was standing here like a servant obeying her orders.

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