My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 24/Don’t Take It Personally

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Julie’s Point of View 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

I cursed him a thousand times in my head; the bastard calls me a madwoman while I was receiving him with such elegance! But I did not lose my cool; instead, I maintained my calm gaze while examining him scrutinizedly.

My eyes moved slowly toward the golden cane he had rested beside him—the one he thumps on the ground to impose his authority—and I said in a cold, provocative tone:

— "Have you grown so old that you bought a cane to lean on?"

I knew I was hitting a sensitive nerve in his masculinity and pride.

I wanted to make the weapon he flaunts look like a sign of disability and senility, so he would know well, before calling me mad again, that my tongue might be sharper than his golden cane.

His features changed in an instant; the sarcastic smile evaporated, replaced by a sharp gloom.

He knit his brows tightly, and his bronze face contracted until his brown eyes looked like two embers smoldering with silent rage.

His hand gripped the handle of the cane until his knuckles turned white, and he said in a low, deep voice carrying a threat no one would dare ignore:

— "It’s clear that you wish to part with your tongue.."

A suffocating silence prevailed in the office, a silence in which I could hear the rapid thumping of my heart that didn’t dare show on my face.

He was staring at me as if studying the best way to crush my audacity. I didn’t blink, and I didn’t retreat in my seat upon Robert’s chair; instead, I leaned my body slightly forward, rested my chin on my intertwined hands, and said in a faint but steady voice:

— "You see, sir.. calling me a madwoman was not appropriate at all; insulting people you don’t know is entirely wrong."

Before he could open his mouth to respond, there was a knock on the door and the guard entered carrying the coffee tray. Confusion filled his face as he saw the charged atmosphere between us.

He placed the cups with extreme caution, his eyes darting between me and that man in bewilderment, as if wondering how I was still alive. I signaled to him coldly:

— "Put it here.. and leave."

After the guard left, I took my cup slowly and sipped a small, warm mouthful that granted me more calm.

Then I looked at him, tilting my eyes slightly with a feigned look of reproach mixed with pride, and said to him:

— "You hurt my feelings with that word.. I only gave you a response to make you feel the bitterness of what you said to me, so don’t take it personally."

His grip on the cane handle loosened slightly, and it seemed as if my words had scrambled his calculations for a few moments.

He expected screaming or fear, but he didn’t expect a "lesson in ethics" from the one he labeled a madwoman.

A short silence ensued, then I saw him slowly raise his hand to stroke his thick mustache, a mysterious smile etched on his lips, mixed with deadly coldness, as he said:

— "You speak words larger than yourself.. words that could cost you your life, but..."

He paused for a second, fixing his gaze on my eyes, then completed in a sarcastic tone dripping with venom:

— "...but, don’t take it personally."

The bastard! He turned the tables on me, directing my own words back at me as if slapping me with them.

He was telling me clearly that although he had retreated from his visible anger, the danger of death he represented still existed, and that my audacity was walking me on a tightrope.

I smiled, trying to break the ice:

"Look at us.. talking with a flood of words and I don’t even know your name."

His response came in a strange tone, one carrying an inexplicable weight, as he uttered:

"Carlos Mendoza."

My God! The sound of the name alone was enough to ring alarm bells in my mind.

At that moment, a terrifying feeling squeezed me—that this revenge of mine might not be against "Robert" at all, but against myself for plunging into this hell.

He didn’t give me a chance to process, but continued coldly:

"And you, little one.. who are you?"

I adjusted my body in the chair from which I had slipped again, trying to gather the remnants of my courage, and said:

— "I am Julie.. Julie Michael."

He didn’t smile, and not a single muscle moved; instead, he aimed his sharp gaze at me as if piercing my skull to read my thoughts, and said in a dry, terrifying tone:

— "I didn’t mean your name, Julie; your name doesn’t matter.. what I want to know is who are you, really, in this place? What is your status that makes me listen to you?"

I looked directly into his eyes and said with bitterness masked in coldness:

— "A girl sold by her father to Mr. Robert.. but unfortunately, it was a failed sale."

I saw his eyebrows rise slightly in a surprise he couldn’t hide.

He didn’t expect me to admit my status as "merchandise" so simply, and in front of a man like him.

But I didn’t give him a chance for comment or pity; instead, I pointed toward his cup, which had begun to cool, and added with a faint smile carrying all the meaning of defiance:

— "Drink your coffee, Mr. Carlos Mendoza.. you like it bitter, just like your talk."

I leaned back against the massive chair, feeling a kind of strange pleasure as I saw him hold his cup in silence, lost in thought. I had thrown all my cards on the table; I am the "merchandise" that does not obey, and the "loss" that Robert bought.

He fixed his terrifying gaze on my eyes, as if digging his claws into my soul. He placed the coffee cup on the table very slowly, then said with a haunting stillness:

— "So.. you are the rebellious Julie whom Robert is trying to tame."

I froze in my place for a second. A shock paralyzed my thinking; I never expected that Robert had made me a subject of his talk with his partners, or that my name had been circulated by the tongues of these men.

But, as is my habit of escaping by moving forward, I gathered my strength, painted a defiant smile, and said:

— "You said it yourself.. ’He is trying’.."

Then I tilted my head slightly and added in a confident tone:

— "And not all trials succeed, Mr. Mendoza."

Carlos’s smile widened slightly, but it was a cold smile that did not reach his eyes, and he said in a tone that carried a lot of underlying malice:

— "If Robert finds you here, sitting in his chair that no one dares to touch.. do you think he will try with you again?"

At that moment, I felt a faint shiver run down my spine. I was terrified by the mere thought, realizing deep down that I had committed a grave mistake, an uncalculated folly that might cost me my head. But I am Julie, I don’t fall easily.

I suppressed my tension behind a wall of coldness, and shifted my gaze from him toward the tank of small sharks that occupied the center of the room; they were swimming in endless circles, predatory and calm at the same time, exactly like the owner of this office.

I said in a low voice, as if talking to myself before addressing him:

— "I never know what goes on in that man’s head.. he is exactly like life, Mr. Carlos; unfair, and unpredictable."

Carlos slowly tilted his head, his eyes never leaving the sharks that were patrolling the tank in silent, deadly circles, then said in a hoarse voice that came out like a faint hiss:

— "Rules are what keep you alive, girl.. and this rebellion of yours will make you lose it."

Despite the fear that was gnawing at my heart and making my limbs cold, I painted a faint smile on my face, looked at him with a defiance I didn’t know I possessed, and said:

— "In this world of yours, rules are what kill you, Mr. Carlos.. as for rebellion, it is the only thing that makes you breathe."

A mysterious smile appeared on his face, then he leaned his body back coldly, placing his weight on the chair, and said in a tone filled with disdain:

— "From the first moment, I realized you were mad.. but this madness of yours entertains me."

His words echoed in my ears like an insult; did he call me mad again? Does he dare to mock me and make me a mere means to kill his time? I felt my dignity surge, so I raised my eyebrows in blatant defiance, and said in a tone dripping with venom:

— "You have grown too old for entertainment, Mr. Mendoza.. this absurdity does not befit a man of your age, nor your status."

I thought I had mastered the scene, but suddenly, and without warning, the office door flew open with such immense force as if a hurricane had struck it.

Out of sheer terror and surprise, my hand trembled involuntarily, and the cup slipped from between my fingers, hitting the floor and shattering into a hundred pieces.