My father sold me to the Mafia King Chapter 78 - 79/A Version of Her

Chapter 79:

Julie’s Point of View

I closed the office door behind and stood for a few seconds in the quiet corridor, trying to organize my thoughts.

Should I return to my room and remain within its walls? I leaned my body toward the stairs, about to descend, but I froze in my place when I felt firm fingers wrap around my wrist with force.

I turned quickly, facing a tall young man with jet-black hair and brown eyes that scrutinized my features with a strange and mysterious look.

I said sharply as I tried to pull my hand from his grip:

"What are you doing? Let go of my hand!"

He didn’t answer; instead, he stubbornly dragged behind him toward the room adjacent to Robert’s office.

He pushed the door open, and we entered a luxurious eting room with a long table and chairs surrounding it, then he slamd the door shut behind us with a single strike.

I shouted at him, rage boiling in my chest:

"Who do you think you are, you lunatic?"

I moved with wide steps toward the exit, but he was faster than ; he grabbed my arm again and pinned my back against the wall with a force that made my breath falter.

He placed his hands on the wall around , cornering , and asked in a stifled voice:

"Who are you?"

I lifted my chin in defiance despite my racing heartbeat and said:

"You are dragging here by force and asking who I am?"

He gritted his teeth while looking into my eyes with a terrifying focus, and said in a tone that was almost a whisper:

"You can’t be her..."

I began to feel fear creeping into from his unstable behavior, so I said as I tried to push him away with my hands:

"Are you ntally deranged? Co on, let go!"

He didn’t move; instead, he began to pass his gaze over the details of my face with a strange precision, muttering:

"The sa eyes... the sa chin... even the sa strands of hair."

My body stiffened, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, and I asked him in confusion and anxiety:

"What do you an? What are you talking about?"

He uttered a single na that made the air freeze in my lungs:

"Violet."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to understand what he was raving about, and asked in a trembling tone:

"Violet who?"

He didn’t blink; instead, he brought his face closer until I felt his agitated breath, and said in amazent:

"You are a version of her... you just look younger."

My God, who is this madman who fell upon from the sky today? I felt the pressure of the room’s walls increasing, so I pushed his chest with all my might and said sharply:

"Listen, you lunatic, let out now!"

Suddenly, the door burst open violently, and Olivia entered.

Her gaze froze on us, and her facial features tightened sharply as she saw my cornered position.

In the blink of an eye, that stranger pulled his hands from the wall as if a coldness had struck his fingers, then rushed toward the door,

passing Olivia with wide, fast steps until the echo of his footsteps vanished in the hallway.

A heavy silence prevailed for seconds, during which Olivia tilted her head to the side, examining from head to toe with a suspicious look, then asked coldly:

"What is happening here, Julie?"

I straightened my shirt, which had wrinkled from his grip, and brushed my hair off my shoulder with a fierce anger, saying:

"It’s none of your business!"

I brushed past her with my shoulder, trying to escape her toxic gazes, but her fingers suddenly dug into my arm to stop in my tracks.

She leaned her face toward and said in a hissing voice:

"When I ask you... you will answer ."

I shook my arm from her grip with a force that made stagger a step backward, and said with a muffled shout full of resentnt:

"Are all the lunatics today going to direct questions at , or what?"

I turned away from her without waiting for her reaction and left the room quickly, leaving her behind boiling in her silence.

I felt the fires of rage burning in my chest; that freak dragged as if I were a plastic doll, and in the end, he didn’t give a single answer to satisfy my thirst for what he had done.

The hallway was long and empty, dominated by a suspicious calm that didn’t match my internal noise.

I ran down the stairs and headed to my room, and as soon as I entered and closed the door, my eyes fell on the breakfast cart.

I felt a sharp pang in my stomach and realized then that I hadn’t tasted anything since early morning.

I pulled the chair roughly and sat before the food cart, but my hand that reached for the bread was still trembling slightly from the effect of that sudden grip.

I began to eat chanically, chewing the food without feeling its taste, while my mind cooked questions instead of my stomach.

I suddenly put down the fork and leaned my back against the chair in distress, running my fingers through my hair nervously.

That young man’s features and his voice as he uttered the na still echoed in my ears.

"Violet..."

I whispered it, as if I were tasting the letters.

Is it possible that there is soone in this world who possesses the sa details of my face to the point that a stranger’s balance would be disturbed upon seeing ?

I stood up from my place and walked toward the mirror with heavy steps.

I stood contemplating my face; I washed my face with cold water to dispel the features of panic, then began to examine the shape of my eyes and chin with a strange focus.

"The sa eyes... the sa chin..."

I repeated his words while touching my face in amazent.

I whispered as the blood ran cold in my veins:

"Who is he... and who is Violet?"