My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 58 - 59/New Julie

Chapter 59:

Julie’s Point of View

The cold crept into my limbs and my voice trembled as I tried to process the impact of her words:

"Did they give me this jewelry because they... because they want me?"

Olivia’s smile widened to reveal blatant malice as she said:

"Yes, they are racing to snatch your virginity, little one."

At that moment, I saw nothing in the velvet boxes but expensive shackles.

I rushed toward the table, and with a hysterical motion, I threw the boxes toward the floor.

Diamond-encrusted necklaces scattered, and gold rings and precious earrings rolled over the carpet.

The jewelry had barely settled on the floor when I felt Olivia’s hand dig violently into my wet hair.

She pulled my head back with a force that made my scream catch in my throat, and hissed in my ear:

"What do you think you’re doing, you idiot?"

I clung to her forearm, trying to ease the pressure on my scalp, and cried out bitterly:

"No one will touch me... I won’t let them, no matter what happens!" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

She tightened her grip further, and I felt as if the bones of my skull would shatter as she snarled:

"These pieces are worth a fortune, and you are too insignificant to realize their value!"

"I don’t want them! Take them away from me!"

I screamed at her, tears burning my eyes, then followed it sharply:

"Leave me, you wretch!"

Suddenly, she pulled me down with force, and my body hit the hard floor violently.

She released my hair and stood towering over me with a look of superiority, saying as she adjusted the hem of her dress:

"This is so you think twice before you dare lay a hand on me again."

She turned and left the room with haughty steps,

leaving me amidst the glittering wreckage, gathering the pieces of myself while the sound of the door slamming still rang in my ears.

I looked at those shiny pieces scattered around my feet and felt a loathing fill my gut.

I whispered to myself in a raspy but firm voice:

"I will not be a commodity whose price is traded between hands."

I stood up with a body shaking from the impact of the fall and headed toward the bathroom.

I took out the hair dryer and stood there amidst its noise until my hair strands were completely dry.

I put on the black waitress outfit; the fabric wrapped around my body like a shroud for my old ambitions.

I looked at the clock; it was one in the afternoon, and the time was still long before the hell would begin, but I wanted to face my fate prepared.

I stood before the mirror, contemplating the stranger staring back at me from behind the glass, then moved with mechanical steps toward the desk.

I pulled out a white paper, gripped the pen tightly, and began to pour out the bitterness inside my heart:

"To the old Julie:

I know very well that you don’t like hurting anyone, and that you lived with a pure heart and principles that refused to be crossed.

But today I tell you that you are forced... forced to choose between your survival and the soul of a stranger you do not know.

Remember... your mother did not love you despite all your pleas, and your father did not look at you despite all you provided.

Only the memory of (Steve) was sincere, but even he left, as if love is a forbidden land for you.

You stood firm in the face of cruelty, but they weren’t satisfied; they turned your body into a bond to pay their debts.

Your father, who was created to protect you, was the first to offer you for sale to be just a whore,

and when he had a chance to get you back, he sold you again without blinking an eye.

You now have one chance to avoid falling into the arms of strangers, which is to throw someone else into the darkness of prison.

I know that at this moment you will kill every ounce of goodness and kindness within you, but you must learn how to be selfish... choose yourself, Julie, always and forever.

From: The New Julie"

I put the pen down, and felt a strange coldness running through my limbs.

I folded the paper slowly, as if I were folding the page of my previous life behind me.

I tucked the paper deep into my pocket, as if I were fortifying my soul with an amulet to prevent the "Good Julie" from waking up again;

that paper was the covenant I signed so as not to weaken or hand over the helm to hesitation.

I closed my eyes for a minute, feeling as if I were walking in my own funeral, bidding farewell to every beautiful memory that linked me to life.

In a dark corner of my memory, the image of "Steve" jumped out.

His voice echoed in my ear as he always told me:

"If I disappear, Julie, you will find a letter under the rock in the garden next to our house."

That sentence tore my heart every time, and I would beg him not to leave, not to leave me alone in this hell.

But on his fifteenth birthday, everything changed.

He entered my room and pulled me to his chest in a long, silent embrace, an embrace that dripped with farewell and sorrow.

Before I could utter a word, the door opened with a violence that almost uprooted it from its place,

and my father appeared, wrapping his leather belt around his hand with malice:

"You’re here then, you filthy dog!"

The first blow landed like a whip on Steve’s back.

I lunged with my small body to stand as a barrier between them, thinking I would deter his brutality,

but he pushed me harshly, knocking me to the ground, and began to beat him savagely.

Blood erupted from Steve’s old wounds that hadn’t dried yet, as if his body had become a map of pain.

I saw the cloud that filled my father’s eyes a blind hatred that didn’t see us as his children.

Without thinking, my hand reached for a vase on the table, and I smashed it over his head with all the strength I possessed.

He let out a scream that shook the walls of the room and began to stagger as he tried to fix his gaze on me.

I didn’t feel fear for myself; instead, I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears choking me:

"Run, Steve! Run now!"

Steve ran, stumbling over his wounds and the bones broken by the beating,

but the survival instinct was pushing him toward the door like a madman.

I remained alone, watching my father as he staggered and then fell sitting on the edge of the bed,

wiping the blood from his forehead and looking at me with eyes flashing with evil as he panted:

"Do you want to kill me... you whore?"

I didn’t want to kill him, but I didn’t want any trace of his survival; I

prayed in secret every night that his breath would be extinguished so the world could rest from his evil,

but fate was hiding harsher Chapters for me.

I stood before him with a trembling body, backing away while muttering in terror:

"I... I... don’t want to kill you."

At that moment, my mother burst into the room panting.

Her eyes darted between the wreckage of the vase and the blood staining my father’s forehead, and she screamed:

"What in heaven’s name happened here?!"

She didn’t turn to me; she didn’t ask how I was or about Steve who fled with his blood.

Instead, she rushed toward my father, grabbed his arm, and supported him to take him out of the room.

They left me there alone, facing the silence of the walls and the first heinous act my hands were stained with.

This family, with all its cruelty, had been preparing me for the world of crime since I was a child who knew nothing of life.

The room door opened suddenly, my memories snapped back, and my bitter train of thought was cut off.

Robert stood at the threshold, plucking me from a painful past and returning me to an even more bitter reality.

He was in his full elegance, wearing a luxurious suit with classic details that suggested he had come from the Victorian era; the prestige of his presence dominated the place.

He was carrying two dark black lace masks in his hand.

He raised them slightly and fixed his piercing gaze on my face, then said in a deep, rhythmic tone:

"Are you ready?"