My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 84 - 85/The Chains of Dignity

Chapter 85:

Olivia’s Point of View

Julie screamed while she was still sprawled on the floor, her voice trembling with intense oppression:

"You low-life bitch! What are you doing?"

I watched her coldly as she struggled to rise; her knees were shaking, and her eyes burned with desperate rage.

She raised her weak hand in an attempt to return the slap, completely ignoring the difference in strength between us,

but I lunged at her wrist with annoyance and gripped it like an iron shackle.

I didn’t give her room to breathe; instead, I swung my other hand to land on her cheek with a second, even more powerful slap, making her body stagger and lose its balance once more.

I spotted the glint of tears that were frozen in her sockets, refusing to fall out of pride.

I approached her and whispered with a terrifying hiss while fixing my gaze on her broken eyes:

"We’ll see now if you have ’Sarah’s immunity,’ Julie... Will you go to him crying? Will you tell Mr. Robert that I hit you?"

I drew a malicious smile and continued in a defiant tone:

"But remember... if you do that and complain to him, it means an admission from you that you are his property, and that you are having sex with him in exchange for this protection... just like Sarah. So, does your dignity allow you to become his new whore?"

Julie’s body stiffened completely upon hearing these words, as if the psychological slap was more painful than the physical one.

A heavy silence hung over the room, broken by Sarah, who was watching the scene in total disbelief, her face turning pale.

Sarah took a step back, looking at Julie with wide eyes, and asked in a tone carrying a muffled terror:

"Julie... are you and Robert..."

She stopped suddenly as if the words choked in her throat, then completed with a trembling whisper:

"Are you together?"

The color of Julie’s face changed in mere seconds; red invaded her cheeks from anger, while she turned pale yellow from the horror of the shock, then faded into a deep purple.

Her eyes widened in shock while she still cupped her red, swollen cheek with her trembling fingers, trying to soothe the effect of the two slaps that had left their marks clearly on her skin.

She said in a voice fragmented by the intensity of agitation as she looked at Sarah:

"What are you saying, Sarah? Are you crazy?"

Then she turned toward me sharply, the glint of her intelligence shining behind her suppressed tears, and said in a shaky voice:

"You wanted to create this entire theatrical play just to make sure I wouldn’t tell your damned master, didn’t you?"

At that moment, I drew a cold smile of victory; yes, she never disappointed me.

She read my thoughts accurately, and I knew for certain that her "ridiculous" self-esteem and dignity would be the chains preventing her from resorting to Robert.

Julie continued, straightening her posture and trying to regain her wounded pride:

"There was no need for this at all... for I don’t tell that monster anything, and I will know very well how to take my revenge from you, Olivia... in my own way."

Despite my confidence in how sacred her dignity was to her, I needed this physical and verbal confirmation from her.

I watched her as she turned her body and left the room with angry steps, the sound of her heels hitting the hard floor echoing in the corridor with a force that expressed a boiling volcano inside her.

I remained in my place, enjoying that moment, feeling a kind of ecstasy because I was finally able to humiliate her and put her in the place she deserves.

My enjoyment was interrupted by Sarah’s voice, which came out shaky and full of questions, as she stood wary and looked at me with bewildered eyes:

"Explain to me, Olivia... what happened? And why did you slap her with all this cruelty?"

I directed my sharp gaze toward Sarah, turning my resentment into a new weapon I would masterfully use for my own interests.

I said to her in a cold, venomous tone:

"Mr. Robert finds this kitten... more interesting than your mind could ever imagine."

As soon as my words fell on her ears, I felt the collapse of her pride;

Sarah retreated with unsteady steps until the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, and she fell sitting down, whispering in shock:

"What?"

I approached her a step, my stature leaning toward her with deliberate psychological pressure, and asked her:

"When was the last time he visited you?"

She swallowed hard, and her jaw seemed to stiffen as she answered in a husky voice:

"On... on the day Julie entered my room."

Here, I decided to deliver the fatal blow to whatever remained of her vanity. I said, enjoyment coating my tone:

"Did you know that he sees her every day? In the morning and in the evening, they spend hours together."

I saw Sarah’s eyes widen, and before she could speak, her hot tears escaped to carve their way down her pale cheeks.

I drew a wide smile on my face and finished shattering the rest of her fortresses:

"He made her his personal assistant, Sarah... she has risen in his eyes, and she is no longer just a commodity for pleasure like you anymore."

Sarah muttered, shaking her head left and right in a state of denial, while her breaths came out troubled and fragmented as if the air in the room had grown scarce:

"But she... she can’t stand him! She called him an idiot right in front of me! How... how can he care about her after all that?"

I felt a bitterness as sharp as gall congesting in my throat, so I clenched my fist until my nails dug into my palm, and said in a tone shrouded in suppressed oppression:

"I don’t know, Sarah... but it seems that this very rebellion is what piqued his curiosity and drew his interest."

I turned and left the room without another word, leaving her behind like a lifeless corpse collapsed on the bed.

I pulled the doorknob and closed it with a suspicious silence, and when I raised my head to gather my scattered self, the blood froze in my veins and my movement stopped completely.

Robert was standing there, leaning his back against the opposite wall with a chill-inducing coldness, his hawk-like eyes piercing my face in search of an answer.

He spoke in his deep voice, which carried a tone that brooked no evasion:

"What is happening here, Olivia?"

I felt my heart leap into my throat, and I tried desperately to hide my confusion by adjusting my shirt collar with a trembling hand, while wondering to myself:

How long has he been standing here? And did he hear what went on inside?