My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 72 - 73/The Miracle of Ruin

Chapter 73:

Olivia’s Point of View

I tucked Robert’s shirt into my handbag with extreme care, as if I were hiding evidence of a crime of passion, and left the office with steps I tried to keep balanced despite the hurricane hitting me from within.

I descended the stairs, the sound of my high heels striking the marble with a dry echo, until I reached the locked door that opens only with a passcode.

As soon as the door opened, I found him standing there; the guard Stan, in his black suit and massive body.

He said in a calm tone that was not devoid of flattery:

"Hello, Ms. Olivia, are you going home?"

I answered him briefly without looking at him:

"Yes."

I saw him out of the corner of my eye looking left and right cautiously, then he leaned his body toward me to whisper in a faltering voice:

"A miracle has happened here, Ms. Olivia."

I raised my hand in the air with a commanding motion to silence him, feeling a heaviness in my head from excessive thinking, and said with annoyance:

"I am in no mood to hear news about customers today, Stan."

But he did not back down; instead, his features appeared more serious and interested as he replied:

"The miracle is about Mr. Robert, not the customers."

At that moment, I felt as if an electric current had run through my spine.

Every atom of exhaustion vanished, and my senses awakened completely; my raised hand froze in the air before slowly lowering to grip the handle of my bag firmly.

I turned toward him with my entire body, my pupils dilating as I fixed my gaze on his mouth, waiting for the next word, and said in a voice charged with anticipation:

"Yes? What happened?"

Stan said in a low tone:

"Last night, late at night, Mr. Robert came out of this elevator carrying a girl in his arms."

My body stiffened in place as if I had turned into a statue of salt; I felt a sudden coldness stabbing my limbs, and my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach.

I swallowed my saliva, which had dried up completely, and said with a tension I desperately tried to hide while my hand squeezed my bag:

"Who... who is this girl?"

He answered, narrowing his eyes like someone recalling a stunning scene:

"I don’t know her name, but she is a very beautiful girl... she has long brown hair and green eyes."

The words froze in my throat, and I felt a tightness in my breathing as if the walls had begun to narrow around me. My voice came out hoarse and shaky:

"Are you sure, Stan?"

He nodded firmly and replied:

"Yes, and I remember her features well... she possesses a beauty that is difficult to forget."

Sparks flew from my eyes, and I felt the heat of rage burning my cheeks, so I shouted at him sharply, my body trembling:

"She is just a wild sow!"

Stan looked at me with ambiguous eyes, a cold look that made me feel like I was trying to deceive myself in the face of a reality obvious to everyone but me. I tried to justify the matter in defeat:

"She must have stumbled and he carried her, Stan... there must be a trivial reason."

Stan shook his head in disapproval and answered:

"No... no, she was wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing."

At that sentence, I felt storms of rage and jealousy uprooting my insides; I imagined her filthy hand touching his throat, and her provocative laugh resonating in his ear.

Stan continued, leaning toward me more:

"Do you know the guard Red? The one with the red hair?"

I didn’t have a single bit of energy to remember the guards’ faces now; the fire of jealousy was consuming my mind.

I said, playing along while gritting my teeth:

"Yes... what about him?"

He said in a strange tone:

"Mr. Robert killed him."

I answered with indifference, trying to downplay anything concerning her:

"He isn’t the first person he has killed, Stan, why are you telling me this now?"

Stan fixed his gaze into my eyes and said the word that was like a mercy bullet to my pride:

"He killed him for her sake... he killed him because he dared to carry her on his shoulder."

I took a step backward as if I had received a physical blow to my chest.

My fingers cramped around the bag until they almost tore the leather, and I felt a slight dizziness making the ground beneath my feet shake.

"Killed him for her sake?" The words resonated in my mind like the tolling of a death bell; Robert, who cares for no one, took a life just for her.

I rushed into the elevator, ignoring Stan’s presence completely, and as soon as the metal door closed with a muffled sound, I felt as if the four walls had begun to shrink to squeeze my body.

The air suddenly stilled and began to vanish from my lungs bit by bit; I placed my hand on my chest, which began to rise and fall in short, panicked movements, as if I were drowning in a deep well.

The door opened, and I walked out dragging my heavy feet; I climbed the stairs while gripping the handrail until my knuckles turned white, then crossed the empty restaurant hall with staggering steps.

As soon as the cold street air brushed my face, I opened my mouth trying to draw a single breath to quench my lungs’ thirst, but the air was getting stuck in my cramped throat.

I bypassed my parked car; my body would not obey me to sit in another enclosed space while suffocation encircled my neck.

I walked through the two streets leading to my house with unsteady steps, my head spinning with images of Julie laughing in his arms.

I reached my building and climbed its steps, panting audibly, and when I reached the door, my fingers trembled as they turned the key in the lock with great difficulty.

I entered the house, reeling right and left like a drunkard burdened by wine, but I was intoxicated with pain, not alcohol.

I collapsed onto my bed with a broken body, as if my bones had turned into shattered glass.

With a hysterical mechanism, I fumbled in my bag and pulled out his shirt; I clutched it to my chest with all my might and buried my face in its rough fabric,

imagining that I was squeezing his body between my arms.

In that moment, the cord of my patience snapped; my jaw trembled violently, and a torn sob escaped me followed by a bitter fit of crying that shook my entire being.

I felt the hot tears wetting the fabric of the shirt, while my body curled into a fetal position, surrendering to a long night of weeping that would not end until the morning sun rose over my ruins.