My father sold me to the Mafia King Chapter 21/Terrifying Freedom

Chapter Twenty-One:

Julie’s Point of View

I had my breakfast and enjoyed a so false calm after a morning charged with Olivia’s provocations and Robert’s crazy offer.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, rearranging the events of our last eting in my head.. would he really allow to have the room key?

I laughed with bitter irony and said to myself:

"Julie.. what a fool you are! Do you really think he would allow you to wander around here and grant you freedom of movent?"

That savage who describes himself as a sword cannot give a sense of security, even if I cut my vocal cords singing for him.

To him, I am just a bird he found difficult to ta, and keys in his dictionary are nothing but tools to tighten the cage, not to open it.

I felt a chill seeping into my body; my shirt had beco slightly damp because of the strands of my hair that hadn’t dried yet.

At that mont, the door was thrown open violently and Olivia entered, her eyes blazing with sparks of suppressed anger.

I didn’t have the energy to engage in another verbal duel with her, so I rose from the bed and said in a calm tone, trying to absorb her fury:

"Listen, Olivia.. yesterday I entered Mr. Robert’s room just to see it and then I left; nothing of what is going on in your imagination happened."

I was trying to calm her down; if my fate was to stay here for a long ti, the last thing I needed was an enemy with her power and influence.

But she approached slowly, a sarcastic smile hovering on her lips:

"Your little lie that you told this morning.. did Mr. Robert scold you for it and force you to tell the truth?"

She was testing the limits of my patience skillfully, but I maintained my composure and answered her with a sincerity that sprang from the depths of my disgust:

"If your master, Robert, were the last man in this world, I would not look at him."

Just placing myself in that possibility made feel nauseated, but her reaction was surprising; she burst out laughing and said with contempt:

"Rather, he is the one who won’t look at you!"

I realized at that mont that a truce with this woman was impossible, so I went along with her out of boredom to end the conversation:

"Yes, Olivia.. he won’t look at , you are right."

She moved closer to , and with a sudden movent, she threw sothing at that struck my body before falling and making a sharp, tallic sound against the marble floor.

My gaze lowered automatically toward that object.. and I froze in my place.

It was a key.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it, and I felt my heart pounding so hard it pained my chest. I asked myself in bewildernt:

"Is this really the room key? Did he do it?".

Amidst my shock, Olivia’s hateful voice echoed as she said:

"Don’t rejoice too much, for this key won’t just open your room door; it will open the gates of hell for you, Julie!"

Her words didn’t affect , and her threat didn’t intimidate ; all my senses were suspended by that small piece of tal lying on the ground.

I was completely unable to comprehend that Robert, that man who never compromises, had handed the key to my prison with his own hand.Is it a new trick?

I raised my gaze toward Olivia again, my voice coming out as a whisper as if I feared the scene would evaporate if I spoke aloud:

"Is this.. is this the room key?"

Olivia glared at with her piercing gaze that penetrated my skin, and said in a tone dripping with gloom:

"Yes, it is.. but beware, Julie, for privileges in this place are exactly like selling your soul to the devil."

A heavy silence prevailed between us after her words.

She wanted to tell that every piece of tal Robert throws in my path has a price, and that the freedom I think I’ve gained now is but a slightly longer rope to strangle with later.

But at that mont, I didn’t care about the devil or his deals; all that mattered to was that the jailer’s grip had begun to loosen, and that the door that used to separate from the world was no longer locked by the power of technology, but had beco mine.. or so I imagined.

I asked her as I began to regain my senses and gather myself, trying to sound interested in technical details and nothing more:

"The stage upstairs.. do only custors sit around it? Or are the other girls present there as well?"

She left my question hanging in the air for monts, and I watched her facial expressions shift from anger to a kind of cold mockery.

My question touched upon the strict "system" she oversees. She tilted her head and said in a tone not devoid of condescension:

"That depends on Mr. Robert’s orders alone.. he is the one who decides whether the girls will mingle with the custors or not."

Then her eyes narrowed suddenly, and she took an extra step forward, asking in an investigative tone:

"But why are you asking? And how did you know about the stage in the first place?"

I looked at her calmly, not allowing confusion to creep into my features; instead, I raised my head slightly and answered her in a cold tone:

"Your master, Robert, is the one who did.. he took on a tour of the upper floor and showed the stage himself."

I saw her features stiffen again, as if my words were a new stab to her ego. It seed that the privilege of a "private tour" with Robert was not available to many, and certainly not to a girl who had just been imprisoned.

I completed coldly:

"So there is no need for all this suspicion; I am just trying to comprehend the place where I will stand tomorrow."

Olivia’s lips twisted into a sallow smile, and she said in a tone carrying disgusting implications:

"I understand now why he gave you the key.."

She walked out of the room without saying another word, leaving behind a storm of thoughts in my head.

What did she an?

A terrifying thought crossed my mind that made my breath tighten: Robert is going to sell .

I gripped the key tightly until its edges dug into my palm, and I felt an overwhelming urge to scream. Was I so stupid that I believed, even for a mont, that I had won against him?

He will make go up on stage and sing; he will tell them in front of everyone that I am the new commodity her father sold to him.. how could he deceive so easily? How did I believe that the beast could soften?

But in the midst of my breakdown, I touched the bandage covering my facial wound, and my pulse stopped for a mont. I said to myself in a troubled whisper:

"It’s impossible for him to sell while I am like this.. he is a man of deals, and he certainly won’t display faulty rchandise in his most expensive auction."

I found myself talking to the walls of the room like a madwoman, trying to find a gap in my nightmare.

I took a deep breath, and held the key with a trembling hand as if it were a burning coal.

I stepped toward the door and placed it in the lock; the sound of it turning was a light "click," but in my ears, it echoed like an explosion.

I turned the handle.. and opened the door.