My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 74

Chapter 74: 75/Did something really happen between us?

Chapter 75:

Julie’s Point of View

I pulled my tired body from the bed and rubbed my eyes, trying to grasp the situation, and said in a hoarse voice:

"What is it... what brought you here so early in the morning?"

She didn’t answer; instead, she stepped aside to make way for a guard who was dragging a massive metal clothes rack behind him,

crowded with fabric pieces of various colors and shapes, followed by another guard carrying shoeboxes stacked on top of each other.

I furrowed my brows and looked at the crowded clothes rack in confusion, asking in a low voice:

"What are these clothes?"

Olivia adjusted her stance after the guards left the room, tapping her forefinger on the edge of her crossed arm, saying sarcastically:

"They are your work clothes... for you don’t intend to work as a personal assistant for Mr. Robert in these pajamas of yours, do you?"

I moved toward the clothes with slow steps, reaching out to feel the fabrics; there were long flowing dresses, fabric trousers carefully pressed, and classic shirts with stiff collars.

They were pieces that truly suited an employee in a prestigious company, not a girl in a nightclub.

I raised my gaze to her and said in amazement:

"Anyone who sees these clothes would think I’m going to work in a massive commercial establishment."

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized me with a lethal coldness, and she said in a voice dripping with poison:

"I truly don’t know why Mr. Robert chose you to be his personal assistant."

The same question was gnawing at my mind like a maggot, but I lifted my chin high, trying to regain my pride, and said:

"I don’t know... ask him."

At that moment, she took a step toward me, the veins in her neck protruding as she looked at me with a terrifying intensity:

"Is it because you seduced him with your cheap methods?"

I felt my blood boil, and I gritted my teeth hard until my jaw almost cramped, and answered her with a rage that made my chest rise and fall violently:

"Respect your words, Olivia... for I am not like you!"

She didn’t back down; instead, a cold malicious smile formed on her face, and she tilted her head sideways while eyeing me with a look of contempt, then said in a provocative calmness:

"Really?... And was I the one he carried in his arms two days ago, wrapping my hands around his neck while I laughed?"

A violent shock struck me, freezing the blood in my veins as I heard her last sentence,

and I felt as if the ground were shaking beneath my feet.

My pupils dilated in shock, and I said in a fragmented voice that I tried to make indignant:

"What are you saying, you crazy woman? Did you imagine this in your head?"

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