My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 78

Chapter 78: 79/A Version of Her

Chapter 79:

Julie’s Point of View

I closed the office door behind me and stood for a few seconds in the quiet corridor, trying to organize my thoughts.

Should I return to my room and remain within its walls? I leaned my body toward the stairs, about to descend, but I froze in my place when I felt firm fingers wrap around my wrist with force.

I turned quickly, facing a tall young man with jet-black hair and brown eyes that scrutinized my features with a strange and mysterious look.

I said sharply as I tried to pull my hand from his grip:

"What are you doing? Let go of my hand!"

He didn’t answer; instead, he stubbornly dragged me behind him toward the room adjacent to Robert’s office.

He pushed the door open, and we entered a luxurious meeting room with a long table and chairs surrounding it, then he slammed the door shut behind us with a single strike.

I shouted at him, rage boiling in my chest:

"Who do you think you are, you lunatic?"

I moved with wide steps toward the exit, but he was faster than me; he grabbed my arm again and pinned my back against the wall with a force that made my breath falter.

He placed his hands on the wall around me, cornering me, and asked in a stifled voice:

"Who are you?"

I lifted my chin in defiance despite my racing heartbeat and said:

"You are dragging me here by force and asking me who I am?"

He gritted his teeth while looking into my eyes with a terrifying focus, and said in a tone that was almost a whisper:

"You can’t be her..."

I began to feel fear creeping into me from his unstable behavior, so I said as I tried to push him away with my hands:

"Are you mentally deranged? Come on, let me go!"

He didn’t move; instead, he began to pass his gaze over the details of my face with a strange precision, muttering:

"The same eyes... the same chin... even the same strands of hair."

My body stiffened, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, and I asked him in confusion and anxiety:

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

He uttered a single name that made the air freeze in my lungs:

"Violet."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to understand what he was raving about, and asked in a trembling tone:

"Violet who?"

He didn’t blink; instead, he brought his face closer until I felt his agitated breath, and said in amazement:

"You are a version of her... you just look younger."

My God, who is this madman who fell upon me from the sky today? I felt the pressure of the room’s walls increasing, so I pushed his chest with all my might and said sharply:

I ran down the stairs and headed to my room, and as soon as I entered and closed the door, my eyes fell on the breakfast cart.

I felt a sharp pang in my stomach and realized then that I hadn’t tasted anything since early morning.

I pulled the chair roughly and sat before the food cart, but my hand that reached for the bread was still trembling slightly from the effect of that sudden grip.

I began to eat mechanically, chewing the food without feeling its taste, while my mind cooked questions instead of my stomach.

I suddenly put down the fork and leaned my back against the chair in distress, running my fingers through my hair nervously.

That young man’s features and his voice as he uttered the name still echoed in my ears.

"Violet..."

I whispered it, as if I were tasting the letters.

Is it possible that there is someone in this world who possesses the same details of my face to the point that a stranger’s balance would be disturbed upon seeing me?

I stood up from my place and walked toward the mirror with heavy steps.

I stood contemplating my face; I washed my face with cold water to dispel the features of panic, then began to examine the shape of my eyes and chin with a strange focus.

"The same eyes... the same chin..."

I repeated his words while touching my face in amazement.

I whispered as the blood ran cold in my veins:

"Who is he... and who is Violet?"