My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 46 - 47/Sold

Chapter 47

Julie’s Point of View

The clock had struck nine in the morning. For the first time since my arrival here, I saw signs of satisfaction on the nurse’s face; perhaps because, to my own surprise, I hadn’t tried to tear the bandage off my face all night.

She told me in a reassuring tone that the wound was minor and its trace would disappear completely within a few days.

I rose from the bed with a strange sense of lightness and headed toward the breakfast table.

Hunger had taken such a toll on me that I devoured everything placed before me without thinking, until I felt like my stomach would burst.

It was as if my body were gathering its strength against my will to fight a battle I didn’t know when it would begin.

I changed my clothes, choosing black pants and a black shirt, as if declaring a silent mourning for my freedom.

I stretched out on the bed and picked up a book, trying to escape between its lines, but the silence did not last long.

The door opened, and a brown skinned woman in her thirties entered; she was short and wearing the official maid’s uniform.

She began cleaning the room with her vacuum cleaner, filling the place with a monotonous noise.

I watched her mechanical movements while lying down, until she stopped and looked at me, saying in a practical tone:

"I want your dirty clothes for washing."

I nodded toward the bathroom and said:

"They are in there."

She entered the bathroom, gathered the clothes, and then left quietly. At that moment, I couldn’t stop myself; I laughed with bitterness and shock.

How strange and hideous this place is! They provide you with a royal suite, the finest clothes, and the most delicious dishes, and they send someone to clean up after you and wash your clothes, surrounding you with every manifestation of luxury... except they forget one truth: that all this brilliance doesn’t change the fact that this place is merely a prison, and that I am nothing but a prisoner in a gilded cage.

Memories of yesterday seeped into my imagination like slow poison; I remembered Sarah talking about this place as if it were paradise, and how she praised that bastard and claimed to love him.

I felt nauseous again, and the image of Robert looming over me haunted my breath, making the walls of the room tighten around me.

I whispered to myself bitterly:

"Damn you, you prick... you’ve made me wish for death over staying alive here."

At that moment, the door opened and Olivia entered in her short blue skirt and white shirt, saying in an unusually calm tone:

"Good morning, Julie."

I froze in my place; I couldn’t believe she was greeting me, and more surprisingly, she called me by my name instead of "wild sow." I answered with confusion and caution:

"Good morning."

Olivia wasted no time on pleasantries, but suddenly asked as she paced the room:

"When was the last time you had your period?"

The question shocked my thoughts, and I replied quickly:

"What?!"

She continued coldly while writing her notes:

"You heard me... your period, when was it?"

A suffocating confusion overwhelmed me; why did she care about something so private? I answered her while trying to gather my scattered self:

"Twelve days ago... but why are you asking?"

I saw her write the number on a paper, then she said in a practical tone dripping with cruelty:

"So we know the days you are available for sale, Julie... it’s obvious."

I swallowed hard, and felt a coldness running through my limbs:

"But... I will not be sold, do you understand?"

Olivia smiled a yellow smile and said:

"Yes... we’ll see about that."

Then she took a small box out of her pocket and placed it coldly on the table:

"This is a box of condoms, leave it here. As for the birth control pills, the nurse will come daily to give you one."

In that moment, I felt as if time had stopped, and the walls of the room began to close in on my chest to crush it. I couldn’t comprehend the vileness of what she was saying.

I screamed at her in hysterical anger:

"I won’t take any pills! And get that disgusting thing out of my room right now!"

Olivia turned to me, and with biting sarcasm asked:

"What? Do you want to become pregnant?"

I stood up, blood boiling in my veins like a volcano, feeling an overwhelming urge to shatter everything surrounding me.

I shouted in her face, my voice trembling from the intensity of the oppression:

"Are you mocking me, Olivia?!"

She shook her head with a provocative coldness, letting out a faint laugh a dry laugh that carried not a single ounce of sympathy and said:

"No... I’m just telling you what will happen if you don’t take your precautions."

Then she took one step toward me, leaning in slightly to whisper in a tone dripping with lethal venom:

"You won’t even be able to know who the father of your child is... that child who won’t be allowed to be born anyway."

I froze in my place, feeling that my heart had stopped beating for a second. I didn’t know how to respond to Olivia’s words; it was so terrible and disgusting that my mind refused to process it.

She left the room, leaving me to swallow the bitterness and ugliness of what she had said, as if she had blocked every window of hope in my face.

I threw myself onto the bed and wrapped the covers tightly around me, as if trying to hide from the entire world. I wanted to bury myself there, for my pulse to stop, for me to cease breathing and die in peace instead of this torment.

I remained in that state for several hours; the cover was my only fortress protecting me from thinking and from the total collapse that threatened to overwhelm me.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of that cursed electronic lock. I slowly lifted the cover and looked toward the door in terror... It wasn’t Robert, and it wasn’t Olivia.

It was a strange man, thin and tall, his skin pale, wearing a formal black suit with a neat tie. He was carrying a bottle of wine and two glass cups in his hands, as if he were on a picnic and not in a prisoner’s room.

He closed the door behind him with a suspicious calmness, then fixed his cold gaze on me and said in a quiet voice that sent a shiver down my spine:

"Hello, Julie..."

I looked at him in shock, my mind trying to organize the chaos that had invaded me. I said in a faint tone filled with a lack of comprehension:

"Who are you?"

He didn’t answer immediately; instead, his calm footsteps approached the bed. He placed the wine bottle and the two glasses on the small table beside me with a suspicious dignity, then turned to me and said with a cold smile:

"I am Marcus."

Questions swirled in my head like a hurricane; is this the customer? But it’s impossible! My face still bears the mark of the injury and the bandage; Sam the hair stylist didn’t come, nor did Patricia the makeup artist to hide my flaws and prepare me as they usually do, and even Olivia didn’t storm my room to announce his arrival.

Who is this man then? And how did he enter so easily?

He was skillfully uncorking the bottle, pouring the dark red liquid into the two glasses until they were half full. He held the glasses in his hands and extended one to me, saying with a provocative softness:

"Here you go, Julie..." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

I rose from the bed quickly, trying to create a safety distance between us, and said firmly:

"No... I don’t drink."

Marcus stopped and looked at me with wonder, as if I had spoken a word in an alien language, then said, trying to entice me:

"How do you not drink? Take it, just one sip and you’ll completely change your mind."

In that moment, the anger I had suppressed all morning exploded. I shouted at him, sparks flying from my eyes:

"I said I don’t drink! And who are you anyway to enter my room like this? Come on, get out of here right now!"

Not a lash of his eyelid flickered; instead, he continued to observe my outburst with a terrifying calmness, as if my shouting were nothing but a theatrical performance he enjoyed watching before starting his "work."

He said, smiling a greasy smile that froze the blood in my veins:

"I bought you, Julie... you are mine today."

I froze in my place, feeling my heart beating the drums of terror in my chest to the point that I thought it would burst out from between my ribs.

He began to approach me with confident steps, so I began to retreat backward frantically, words of warning coming out of my mouth trembling:

"Stop... I am not a commodity, I won’t let you touch me!"

He replied with a deadly coldness as he closed in on me:

"Your opinion doesn’t matter... I will force you."

Suddenly, I felt the coldness of the wall sticking to my back; he had cornered me.

He approached further until his breath, tainted with the smell of wine, mixed with my face, and not more than a few centimeters separated us.

In a fleeting moment of despair, I turned my head right and left searching for any lifeline, and I spotted the heavy wine bottle sitting on the table.

With the speed of lightning, I gathered every ounce of strength in my trembling body, gripped the neck of the bottle, and brought it down on his head with all the resentment and oppression I possessed.

The glass shattered!

Shards flew in every corner, and Marcus fell like a collapsing mountain to the floor, unconscious.

The red wine flowed, mixing with his blood to stain the carpet, and the strong, suffocating smell of grapes filled the room.

I retreated backward, panting, my hands shaking hysterically and my heart pounding violently, nearly tearing through my chest.

I collapsed, sitting on the floor, holding my head in my hands which were stained with drops of wine and blood, and began to watch his body stretched out motionlessly like a dead corpse.

A black terror overwhelmed me at the thought that I might have taken a life. I began to mutter in a low, broken voice, as if trying to convince myself and the universe:

"I am not a killer... I am not a killer..."

The silence that followed the noise was terrifying, broken only by the sound of my rapid breathing and the smell of death and ferment that filled the place.