My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 138/Inherited Obsessions

Chapter 138

Thomas’s Point of View (Robert’s Father)

I gripped my phone inside the car and dialed Marcus’s number, tension snaking through my limbs. After only two rings, his voice came through, edged with caution: "Hello, who is this?"

I answered in a resonant voice, imposing my authority: "It’s Thomas, Robert’s father."

A brief silence followed before he replied in a more respectful tone: "Hello, Mr. Thomas. How can I help you?"

I said curtly: "Come to Stoolan Restaurant. Do you know it?"

He replied: "Yes, I know it."

I cut the line immediately: "I’ll be waiting for you there. I want to talk to you about something."

I arrived at the restaurant and sat watching the door, my back straight and my eyes missing nothing. It wasn’t long before Marcus appeared; he approached with hesitant steps, greeted me with a polite coldness, and I gestured with my hand toward the seat opposite me.

Marcus sat down and began interlacing his fingers over the table, leaning toward me slightly: "When you called, I was puzzled. What is it you need from me?"

I looked directly into his eyes and said in a calm tone, yet as sharp as a scalpel: "I learned that you’re searching for your lover, Violet."

His features shifted in an instant; his jaw tightened and the veins in his forehead bulged as he asked sharply: "Who told you?"

I ignored his question entirely and said stolidly: "It doesn’t matter who told me."

He narrowed his eyes, his leg beginning to shake restlessly under the table: "Was it Julie?"

I didn’t give him an answer; instead, I asked in a commanding tone: "Where did you meet her?"

Marcus exhaled in frustration, pushing the chair back slightly as he stood up in rebellion: "Mr. Thomas, these are personal matters and I don’t want to discuss them."

I said in a low voice that carried an implicit threat: "I want to know, Marcus."

He stopped, staring at me with a hard gaze: "I’m sorry. If you want to talk about this, I’ll have to leave."

I fixed my gaze on him and said sternly: "Marcus, sit down."

He hesitated for a moment, then sat, letting out a heavy breath of clear annoyance. That was when I dropped the bomb that paralyzed him: "I’ve known Violet for a long time."

His eyes widened, his hand frozen as it toyed with the water glass. He asked in shock: "What?"

I continued, feeling an old lump in my throat: "She was my lover once, and now, I am also searching for her."

Marcus leaned toward me as if the shock had knocked him off balance: "I never expected that you might know her!"

I asked him again, my eyes tracing every flicker on his face: "Where did you meet her?"

He swallowed hard and leaned back into his seat, as if surrendering to the truth: "I met her in a casino in Las Vegas."

I asked, my pulse quickening: "When?"

He answered, looking into the void with bitterness: "A year and a half ago."

I drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the years pressing on my chest as I asked in a dry tone: "A year and a half ago... but when was the last time you saw her?"

Marcus leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his palms with noticeable tension: "Six months ago... we were living in an apartment I rented in Las Vegas. We were together for a whole year."

He paused, then continued, narrowing his eyes like someone trying to recall a blurred image: "I knew nothing about her, only her name. Every time I tried to ask, she would cut me off coldly and say, ’If you want me, don’t ask me.’ And I would remain silent."

I asked, feeling an angry throb in my temple: "And what happened? How did you part?"

Marcus exhaled bitterly, shaking his head in sorrow: "Nothing happened... in the morning, I woke up and didn’t find her. I searched for her everywhere, but she was like a mirage; she vanished completely. No trace of her at all."

I nodded slowly, an old bitterness coating my tongue.

Violet... she was always a master of disappearing. If she didn’t want to be found, you wouldn’t find her even if you turned the earth upside down. I too had spent years digging through shadows looking for her in vain.

I moved my wheelchair: "Fine, Marcus. Thank you for the information."

Marcus sprang up, his body stiffening as he blocked my path: "Wait! You didn’t tell me how do you know her?"

I looked at him with a coldness that froze his features and said curtly: "That is none of your business."

I saw his jaw tighten violently, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white with rage, but I didn’t give him another second. I turned and left the restaurant.

As soon as I got into the car and closed the door, my phone vibrated with an unknown number. I answered with dignity: "Hello, who is this?"

A faltering voice came through: "It’s Stuart Michael... Julie’s father."

A cold smile played on my lips as I adjusted my seating: "You called at the right time, Stuart."

He replied quickly, as if fearing I might withdraw: "I agree to your offer... I’ll go to bring Julie back, but I want the payment."

My eyes gleamed with a predatory light and I said: "I will give you money you’ve never dreamed of... just go to Robert, and offer to buy your daughter from him."

His voice came back compliant and submissive: "Fine... I will do it."

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Julie’s Point of View

I was looking at the key in my hand when his deep voice caught me from behind: "Julie."

I shoved the key into my pants pocket with lightning speed, my heart thumping so violently I felt it would expose me. I turned slowly, trying to steady my features as I looked at him: "Yes, Mr. Robert."

His eyes passed over my face with a scrutiny that made me stiffen, then he jerked his head in command: "Come, I need you."

I walked behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silent hallway. As soon as we entered the office, I froze.

The maid was bending down to pull a massive plastic bag filled with debris and shattered glass. I stared at the void that had been occupied by destruction just moments ago, wondering with a lump in my throat: How did they fight so savagely? But the office was now clean and tidy, as if nothing had happened, except for the smell of tobacco and the tension filling the corners.

Robert leaned his back against the edge of his desk and said in an expressionless tone: "There are some files I need you to review."

A faint sigh escaped me and I said: "Again?"

He narrowed his eyes and shot me a sharp look that sent a shiver down my spine. I corrected myself quickly, my voice shrouded in confusion: "I mean... I really love helping you."

His jaw relaxed slightly and he replied coldly: "Yes, that’s what’s required."

I moved toward the chair opposite the desk, but he stopped me with a gesture of his hand: "You’ll sit on the sofa."

I nodded: "Fine."

I carried the heavy stack of files and sat on the cold leather sofa. I bent over the glass table and started working, while he sank into his massive desk chair. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it slowly, and exhaled the smoke, which rose in grey rings that momentarily masked his features.

His face was in a bad state; the bruises were turning a deep purple, and there was a small cut at the edge of his eyebrow. Despite all the ugliness left by the brawl, he still possessed that poisonous attraction... the same danger that made me stop breathing as I wondered secretly: "How can he be like this?" How can all this malice and all this charm coexist in one man?

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Robert’s Point of View

I drew a deep breath from my cigarette, watching her through the rising smoke as she buried her face in the papers with a provocative focus. The image of her peeping at me from behind the bathroom door flickered in my mind, and a mocking smile etched itself onto my lips, one I couldn’t suppress; she looked so innocent now compared to that moment.

She cut through my thoughts with a serious tone, pointing at the file: "Can you come here for a moment? I want to show you something."

I rose from behind my desk and sat on the leather sofa beside her. I felt the heat of her body nearing mine, while her slender fingers pointed to a discrepancy in the tax contracts: "Look here... there’s a conflict in the shipping dates between this contract and the settlement draft.

It looks like someone is trying to smuggle small amounts systematically without drawing attention."

Her intelligence was sharp, impressive as always, but I wasn’t really listening; I was drowning in the movement of her lips and the way the muscles in her neck tightened as she spoke with such fervor.

She asked me suddenly, lifting her eyes toward mine: "Are you listening to me?"

I answered in a husky voice, fixing my gaze on her: "Yes."

Despite the fact that I hadn’t caught half of what she said, my heartbeats were betraying my cold exterior. She tilted her head slightly and said: "Your mind seems elsewhere... should I get you some coffee?"

I said curtly: "Fine."

She left the office, leaving behind the scent of her perfume hanging in the air, thickening my suppressed tension. Minutes later, she returned carrying the coffee cup; steam was rising from it, enveloping her fingers.

She approached to hand it to me, and I reached out my hand to take it, but at that exact moment, the cup slipped from between her fingers and the coffee fell onto my lap.