Chapter 57:
Robert’s Point of View
I closed the door behind and walked through the silent corridor, while that single thought gnawed at my head with every step:
"What if I hadn’t opened that door?"
The image of Julie clutching the scissors wouldn’t leave my imagination,
as if the ghost of her lifeless body would have been waiting for there with the sunrise.
I entered my room with agitated steps and went straight to the small cabinet to take out a bottle of strong alcohol.
I didn’t drink from it; instead, I carried it and headed to the bathroom.
I stood before the sink, leaning my hands on the cold marble, staring at the reflection of my face in the mirror.
I uttered a faint curse directed at my shadow; since when did I care about a girl’s heartbeat? Since when did Robert Cross grant chances for survival?
I was supposed to crush her, to make her an example, not to open a door for her to save her dignity.
I opened the bottle cap, and with one motion, I flipped it over my open wounds.
The transparent liquid poured over my torn knuckles, and a sharp sting of burning surged through my nerves like fire.
I didn’t pull my hand away, and I didn’t close my eyes; instead, I gripped the edges of the sink even harder, enjoying the pain that began to feast on my flesh.
I needed this fire; I needed this sting to perhaps drive out that strange tenderness that had crept into my chest and return to my cold senses.
The throbbing in my knuckles was a rhythmic reminder of the chaos she brought into my structured life.
I watched the blood mix with the clear liquid, swirling down the drain like the remains of my self-control.
Every sting was a debt she owed , a price for making feel a flicker of human fear.
I wasn’t just healing a wound;
I was trying to cauterize the strange, unwanted empathy that had started to fester in my mind since I saw her with that blade.
The next morning, I sat behind my wide desk, with the party arrangent papers scattered before .
Olivia was standing opposite , but her eyes wouldn’t leave the bandages wrapped around my hands. I tapped my finger sharply on the wooden desktop, making her recoil.
I said in a dry tone:
"Olivia, are you focusing on the words coming out of my mouth?"
She adjusted her posture tensely, her voice trembling as she tried to recover:
"Yes, Mr. Robert, I am with you."
I pushed the chair back and stood to my full height, gesturing with a firm hand toward the door:
"Then, get to your work imdiately."
As soon as the door closed behind her, I headed to my private dressing room.
My eyes wandered between the hanging clothes until they landed on a specific outfit; this was what I had decided Julie would wear to tonight’s party.
I carried it and walked with steady steps through the hallway until I reached her room.
I pushed the door and entered. The bed was made and the room was eerily quiet; she wasn’t there.
I turned toward the closed bathroom door, the faint sound of water behind it indicating her presence.
My eyes fell on the bookshelf and the desk Carlos had filled the corner of the room with, and a sarcastic smile ford on my lips.
I never imagined that a man of his stature would sink to the level of gifting a child a collection of papers and shelves.
I pulled the chair and sat behind the desk, crossing one ankle over the other as I waited.
On the desktop, a single paper caught my eye; there was one sentence written in a hesitant hand:
"Life gives nothing for free."
I tapped my nails on the wood, muttering to myself:
"You’re right, Julie, and today you will pay the price for your survival... we shall see if your conscience can bear the weight of this price."
The click of the bathroom lock broke the silence of the room.
I turned the chair slowly at the mont she appeared.
She was wrapping a white towel around her body, and water droplets made their way from her wet hair to glide over the pale skin of her arms.
She moved naturally for seconds before raising her gaze; as soon as our eyes t, her features froze, then she recoiled with lightning speed and slamd the door shut.
Her voice ca from behind the door, sharp and loud:
"What are you doing here? Get out of my room now!"
She continued shouting from behind the wood:
"Go on, get out! I need to get dressed!"
My eyebrow rose in astonishnt; who was she to order to leave my property? But, with an involuntary motion, I found my body standing up.
I stepped out of the room and stood in the hallway, leaning my back against the wall beside the door as if I were waiting for official permission to enter.
I pulled out a pack of cigarettes angrily, lit one, and drew a deep breath until its embers glowed, then exhaled the smoke heavily,
trying to drive away the idea that I was standing here like a servant obeying her orders.
After a few monts, a light knock ca from inside.
I threw the cigarette butt on the ground and entered.
She was standing there in a long red skirt and a black shirt, while her wet hair still left dark spots on her shoulders.
As soon as she saw , she raised her finger in my face warningly and said in a sharp tone:
"Don’t enter my room like this again... this is a girl’s room, you must ask for permission!"
I exhaled my cigarette smoke slowly, watching her steadiness.
I asked coldly:
"Any other orders?"
She knitted her eyebrows and took a step toward , sparks flying from her eyes:
"Tell how I will save myself."
A sarcastic smile ford on my lips as I scrutinized her face:
"I expected to find you as a lifeless corpse with the sunrise."
She folded her hands across her chest and replied in a sharp tone:
"Luckily for you, that didn’t happen."
I gestured with my head toward the bag I had thrown on the floor and said:
"This is your outfit for tonight’s party."
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back:
"Am I going to sing today too?"
Then she rushed toward the bag and pulled out what was inside quickly.
Her features froze as she held the outfit up before her face, and she asked in bewildernt:
"What is this?"
I returned to the desk chair and leaned my back against it coldly:
"This is what you will wear."
She bit her lower lip hard and shook the outfit in the air:
"Are you mocking ? Do you want to wear a waitress’s uniform?"
I grabbed a pen that was on the desk and began to fiddle with it between my fingers without looking at her:
"Yes."
She approached until there was nothing separating us but the edge of the desk, and she shouted in a voice trembling with anger:
"Do you really want to sing in a waitress’s uniform?"
I raised my gaze to her, fixing my eyes directly on hers:
"And who told you that you would be singing?"
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, pointing her index finger toward the outfit:
"What do you an? Do you want to work as a waitress?"
I nodded my head calmly:
"Exactly."
Gloom settled over her face, and her features began to reflect clear confusion;
she furrowed her brows as she tried to connect the dots, then asked:
"And is this how I save myself? By moving between tables to serve the guests at the party?"
A short laugh escaped as I shook my head at the naivety of her suggestion,
but her features changed suddenly; her movent stilled and the surprise vanished, replaced by a calm and steady tone as she fixed her gaze on my eyes:
"I don’t think you would make the task that simple... would you?"
My laugh faded and was replaced by a smile of appreciation;
this girl was starting to master reading between the lines.
I straightened my posture, leaned my elbows on the desk, and repeated:
"It’s good that you finally realized that nothing is free or easy in my world, Julie."
She placed her hand around her waist, tilting her head slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts,
then asked in a tone that carried a mixture of defiance and confusion:
"So... what exactly will I do?"
I fixed my gaze on her eyes and said in asured, calm words:
"You are going to put soone in prison."
Her body stiffened in place, and her hand loosened from her waist while her mouth opened in utter shock,
and the word ca out of her as an incredulous whisper:
"What?!"
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