My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 371:

Julie’s POV

I closed the front door with agonizing slowness the moment Stella stepped out, and a heavy stillness immediately washed over the apartment, as though a violent storm had suddenly dissolved into nothing. Moving with silent, calculated strides, I headed straight for my bedroom.

I clicked the wooden door shut behind me, my feet carrying me heavily toward the wardrobe. With fingers that trembled slightly with hesitation, I parted the hanging clothes, reaching into the deep shadows to pull out a soft, white silk handkerchief that had been meticulously folded away.

Unwrapping the fabric with a cautious, lingering dread, the dim bedroom light caught the delicate glint of a slender gold necklace. Suspended from its center was a breathtaking, intricate butterfly adorned with tiny, shimmering pink stones. This was the only gift I had ever received from Robert during our entire time together.

Even though he had ultimately tried to sell me off like some cheap piece of unprincipled property, I had never possessed the cold strength or the raw courage to hurl this piece into the trash and destroy it. For all these long, grueling years, I had guarded it like a secret scar piercing my heart, though I could never bring myself to fasten it around my neck before a mirror.

I traced my fingertips with a burning bitterness over the frozen edges of the golden butterfly, and inside me, old, dormant, mangled wounds ripped open with a vicious, agonizing cruelty. That simple contact with the metal was more than enough to force me face-to-face with a hideous, sickening truth I constantly used my pride to run from: I was still madly, catastrophically in love with him, and I still craved his body with that same overpowering, cursed intensity that was slowly ruining me from the inside out.

With a shattered heart and a broken spirit, I desperately wished he had loved me truly and honestly, the exact way I had loved him. I wished our fates had been so much kinder than this dark reality. Perhaps, if things were different, we would be smiling with pure joy right now, watching our sweet little boy Ethan run, laugh, and play on the green grass before us.

Perhaps we would have actually become a warm, complete, and beautiful family.

A single, scalding tear broke free, burning a slow track of pure misery down my cheek. But almost instantly, Thomas’s ruthless, disgusting words about Robert slammed into my brain, violently shattering my brief lapse of weakness.

He had reminded me how Robert was out there living his absolute best life, blissfully happy without me. He reminded me how Robert had never seen me as anything more than a toxic challenge to stroke his own massive masculine ego and the second he grew bored and exhausted with the game, he chose to discard me, tossing me aside without a single flicker of conscience or a solitary blink of an eye.

I folded the white handkerchief back up with a violent, aggressive snap of my wrists, fueled by pure malice and resentment. I shoved it back into the deepest recesses of the wardrobe, carelessly throwing it into the dark. Then, I collapsed my exhausted body onto the bed, burying my face in both of my trembling palms.

I couldn’t afford to break down in such a humiliating, pathetic way ever again. I couldn’t keep granting him a love and a piece of my soul he didn’t fucking deserve. I would never love him again. I was going to kill this whore of a feeling inside me at any cost, even if I had to burn myself alive to forget him.

The next morning, I woke up to the blinding, golden rays of the sun slicing softly through the cracks of the window blinds, hitting my exhausted face. I pushed myself up with immense heaviness, stepping out of the room with quiet, measured strides toward the living room.

There, I found Steve sleeping deeply and peacefully, stretched out across the long sofa.

I advanced toward him with incredibly slow steps so I wouldn’t startle him, gently lowering myself onto the edge of the coffee table right near his head. I extended my hand, running my fingers with deep, protective affection through his messy, boyish blonde hair. He stirred slightly under my touch, his blue eyes fluttering open with a heavy, sleepy drowsiness.

The moment his gaze locked onto me, a warm, genuine smile spread across his face, and he spoke in a raspy, gravelly morning voice.

"Julie... morning, beautiful."

I offered him a soft, genuine smile that came straight from my heart. "Morning, Steve."

He shifted his weight, propping his torso up slightly as he rubbed his eyes to chase away the lingering sleep, a faint trace of worry bleeding into his tone. "What time is it anyway? Am I late for work?"

"No, not yet. It’s still early," I murmured reassuringly. "I just happened to wake up very early today."

He locked his gaze onto my face, his sharp blue eyes instantly analyzing my features before he asked in a tender, protective voice, "Is something wrong? Did you have a nightmare, or is something bothering you, Julie?"

"Nothing serious," I replied in a low whisper, a deep-seated exhaustion weighing down my words. "I just missed you terribly, and I missed the safety of your arms... Can I just lie down and sleep next to you for a little bit?"

He immediately slid his massive frame backward against the cushions, clearing a space for me on the narrow couch. "Of course, Julie. Come here, get in."

I laid my body down in the tight space beside him, burying my face deep into the crook of his warm neck, clutching onto him with a desperate, unyielding grip as if I were holding onto life itself. He wrapped his thick, powerful arm securely around my frame, anchoring me to him before whispering right against my ear, "Julie... tell me the truth. Are you really okay?"

I took a deep, shuddering breath, filling my lungs with his familiar, comforting scent. Without looking up or lifting my head from his chest, I spoke quietly. "I want to ask you something, Steve."

His warm fingers began gently strokes through my smooth brown hair in a slow, rhythmic pattern as he answered with absolute confidence. "Go ahead, sis. Ask me whatever is on your mind. I’m listening."

I went silent for a fraction of a second, carefully weaving and testing my question with calculated caution and sharp cleverness. "Let’s say... there was a vile, toxic person who hurt you deeply and wronged you terribly in your life. Someone who caused you an agony and a torment that years couldn’t erase. Then, the wheels of fate turned quickly, and that exact same person came crawling to you in absolute humiliation, begging you to donate a piece of your liver to save a sick, dying little child in his family because otherwise, the boy will die. What would you honestly do?"