My father sold me to the Mafia King Chapter 22/Little Madwoman

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Julie’s Point of View

The door opened, and for the first ti , a different breeze licked my face.

Although the club was still closed and desolate, stepping out from between those four walls felt like a small victory.

I had often heard the phrase "we don’t appreciate the value of things until we lose them," and only now did I realize its truth; the taste of freedom after imprisonnt, even if it is a diminished freedom, is sothing no description can do justice.

I took my first step into the hallway, but my euphoria did not last long.

There was a guard standing alert at the corner of the corridor, and as soon as he saw step out, his eyes began tracking in predatory silence.

In that mont, my illusions evaporated; Robert had given the key, yes, but he had not given the freedom I had imagined.

I walked down the long corridor with hesitant steps, the echo of the guard’s footsteps behind reminding every second that I was still "under surveillance."

I stopped suddenly at one of the closed doors; I felt an overwhelming urge to enter there.

I longed to see soone like , soone who had tasted the imprisonnt of this place, perhaps to find in their eyes so consolation or a missing truth.

I gripped the doorknob and turned it with all my strength, but it didn’t budge. I turned to the guard and signaled with my hand for him to approach.

He ca toward with heavy steps and an expressionless face, asking in a coarse voice:

— "Yes.. what do you want?"

I said to him, attempting to regain my self-confidence:

— "I want to enter here.. open the door for ."

He shook his head stolidly and answered in a decisive tone that left no room for discussion:

— "This is not permitted.. Mr. Robert’s orders are for you to remain in the hallway only."

Anger ignited in my chest until I felt its heat in my face.

Did he give the key just to keep confined in this hallway? Had he turned now into a guard working for him for free? Or did he expect to play a "running ga" back and forth in this narrow corridor?

I felt the bitterness of deception fill my throat. He had mocked .. he had laughed at my naivety when I thought I had won.

He gave a key that allowed to walk only in the hallway, as if throwing a bone to a caged dog to amuse himself.

I thought I had taken charge of my affairs, only to discover that I had moved from a prison of four walls to a prison in the shape of a straight line, whose end begins where the surveillance of that guard standing behind terminates.

I looked at the key in my hand with contempt; in my eyes, it was no longer a ans of survival, but had beco a symbol of the mockery with which that savage treats .

He knows that I will not be able to escape, and he knows that all he did was expand my cage by a few ters, to watch my reaction while he sips his cigar in his office.

I could no longer endure this restriction disguised as freedom.

I stepped toward that closed door and began pounding on it with all the strength I possessed; the strikes of my palms on the solid wood echoed in the silent corridor like gunshots.

I scread in a voice choked with tears and rage:

— "Is there anyone? Does anyone hear here?"

I wanted to create chaos; I wanted to hear any sound other than the echo of my footsteps and the silence of the walls.

But suddenly, I felt a thick hand wrap around my wrist and pull forcefully away from the door. It was the guard, who had finally lost his coolness, standing before with his massive body and firm gaze, saying in a loud voice that carried a clear threat:

— "Stop this right now!"

I said in an angry tone,

"Where is your master? I want to speak with him now."

I didn’t wait for a response from him; instead, I turned and headed toward the stairs with wide, fast steps.

His voice echoed from behind as he tried to catch up with :

— "Stop! Go back to your room.. he is not here!"

I didn’t turn to him, as if I would believe such a cliché, ridiculous lie. I was certain he was hiding sowhere, watching the control screens and enjoying my lostness in his corridors.

I climbed the stairs, feeling my heartbeats drumming in my head, and reached his massive office door.

I pushed it with all my might and burst into the place without permission. I was ready to scream in his face, and to hurl that cursed key onto his desk.. but I froze in my place.

The office was drowned in complete silence. The light was dim, and the scent of tobacco was still lingering in the air, but the large leather chair was empty.

There was no one there, exactly as the guard had said. I felt a profound disappointnt, as if the strength I had suddenly gathered had crashed into a wall of fog.

The guard burst into the office behind , and before I could process the emptiness, he tightened his grip on my wrist and began dragging outside violently, growling in anger.

But suddenly, the stillness of the place was pierced by a coarse, deep voice with an authoritative ring that brooked no argunt. He said with a clear xican accent:

— "Leave her.."

The guard froze in his tracks and released my wrist imdiately as if his hand had been burned.

I turned slowly toward the source of the voice at the doorway, and I was t by the figure of a man I had never seen before.

He was tall, with warm bronze skin reflecting his origins, and dium-length black hair surrounding a stern face adorned with a precisely grood light beard.

He was wearing a luxurious gray suit that hugged his athletic body despite appearing to be in his forties.

He held in his hand a cane with a golden head that glead under the dim light, as if it were a royal scepter and not just a tool for leaning.

His brown eyes were as sharp as a falcon’s, piercing through with gazes that were calm and confused at the sa ti, as if he expected to see anything in Robert’s office except a girl like .

A fierce desire for revenge ignited within ; every cell in my body was boiling because of Robert’s mockery of .

He thought he had broken when he granted a key that opens nothing but my cell door, and when he made "run" in a corridor guarded by his dogs.

He wanted to make feel my insignificance, but the arrival of this strange man at this very mont was the opportunity I hadn’t expected.

Despite the noise of fear and confusion in my depths, I painted a mask of calmness and poise on my face.

I was no longer that prisoner who was being dragged monts ago; instead, I gathered my pride and took a step toward the stranger.

I said in a calm and confident tone, as if I were the one who owned this office:

— "Please, sir.. welco."

Then I turned toward the guard who was standing stunned by my audacity, looked at him with a cold, commanding stare, and said:

— "Bring us two cups of coffee.. imdiately."

I didn’t wait for the guard to see my hesitation; instead, I returned my gaze to the man with the golden cane and asked him with an artificial gentleness that hid a storm of plans behind it:

— "How do you like your coffee?"

This was my first strike against Robert in his absence. I had made his guard turn into a servant for in front of his guest.

The man smiled with sobriety, and it seed that my audacity had piqued his interest, so he answered in a quiet voice:

— "I like it bitter.."

At that mont, I raised my hand and signaled to the guard with a sharp, commanding motion to leave, exactly imitating Robert’s style of dismissing his subordinates.

I saw the guard hesitate for a second, but the prestige of the strange man in the room forced him to comply, so he withdrew while casting glares at that promised woe.

I didn’t stop at that; I headed with confident steps toward the massive leather chair behind the desk.. Robert’s chair. I sat on it, feeling as if I were sinking into its deep cushions. It was too large for , to the point that I wondered in amazent how this chair seed smaller when he was sitting in it?

His body filled the place with a prestige that made everything around him seem insignificant, while I was trying hard to lift myself and my chest to appear at the level of the guest sitting before .

Despite feeling small inside that chair, the feeling of victory was delicious. I looked at the strange man who was watching my every move with a mysterious smile, and I said to myself:

"Look, Robert.. you aren’t the only one who knows how to control the rules."

He was still standing by the door, watching with calm gazes that combined bewildernt and admiration.

I signaled with my hand to the leather chair opposite the desk and said to him in the sa confident tone:

— "Please sit.. don’t stay standing there."

He took his steps with great confidence, and the strike of his cane on the floor gave each step a special ring.

He sat before , a sarcastic smile etched on his lips as he said:

— "Who are you, you little madwoman?"