My father sold me to the Mafia King

”No... I’m just telling you what will happen if you don’t take your precautions.”

Then she took one step toward me, leaning in slightly to whisper in a tone dripping with lethal venom:

”You won’t even be able to know who the father of your child is... that child who won’t be allowed to be born anyway.”

I froze in my place, feeling that my heart had stopped beating for a second. I didn’t know how to respond to Olivia’s words; it was so terrible and disgusting that my mind refused to process it.

She left the room, leaving me to swallow the bitterness and ugliness of what she had said, as if she had blocked every window of hope in my face.

I threw myself onto the bed and wrapped the covers tightly around me, as if trying to hide from the entire world. I wanted to bury myself there, for my pulse to stop, for me to cease breathing and die in peace instead of this torment.

I remained in that state for several hours; the cover was my only fortress protecting me from thinking and from the total collapse that threatened to overwhelm me.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of that cursed electronic lock. I slowly lifted the cover and looked toward the door in terror... It wasn’t Robert, and it wasn’t Olivia.

It was a strange man, thin and tall, his skin pale, wearing a formal black suit with a neat tie. He was carrying a bottle of wine and two glass cups in his hands, as if he were on a picnic and not in a prisoner’s room.

He closed the door behind him with a suspicious calmness, then fixed his cold gaze on me and said in a quiet voice that sent a shiver down my spine:

”Hello, Julie...”

I looked at him in shock, my mind trying to organize the chaos that had invaded me. I said in a faint tone filled with a lack of comprehension:

”Who are you?”

He didn’t answer immediately; instead, his calm footsteps approached the bed. He placed the wine bottle and the two glasses on the small table beside me with a suspicious dignity, then turned to me and said with a cold smile:

”I am Marcus.”

Questions swirled in my head like a hurricane; is this the customer? But it’s impossible! My face still bears the mark of the injury and the bandage; Sam the hair stylist didn’t come, nor did Patricia the makeup artist to hide my flaws and prepare me as they usually do, and even Olivia didn’t storm my room to announce his arrival.

Who is this man then? And how did he enter so easily?

He was skillfully uncorking the bottle, pouring the dark red liquid into the two glasses until they were half full. He held the glasses in his hands and extended one to me, saying with a provocative softness:

”Here you go, Julie...”

I rose from the bed quickly, trying to create a safety distance between us, and said firmly:

”No... I don’t drink.”

Marcus stopped and looked at me with wonder, as if I had spoken a word in an alien language, then said, trying to entice me:

”How do you not drink? Take it, just one sip and you’ll completely change your mind.”

In that moment, the anger I had suppressed all morning exploded. I shouted at him, sparks flying from my eyes:

”I said I don’t drink! And who are you anyway to enter my room like this? Come on, get out of here right now!”

Not a lash of his eyelid flickered; instead, he continued to observe my outburst with a terrifying calmness, as if my shouting were nothing but a theatrical performance he enjoyed watching before starting his ”work.”

He said, smiling a greasy smile that froze the blood in my veins:

”I bought you, Julie... you are mine today.”

I froze in my place, feeling my heart beating the drums of terror in my chest to the point that I thought it would burst out from between my ribs.

He began to approach me with confident steps, so I began to retreat backward frantically, words of warning coming out of my mouth trembling:

”Stop... I am not a commodity, I won’t let you touch me!”

He replied with a deadly coldness as he closed in on me:

”Your opinion doesn’t matter... I will force you.”

Suddenly, I felt the coldness of the wall sticking to my back; he had cornered me.

He approached further until his breath, tainted with the smell of wine, mixed with my face, and not more than a few centimeters separated us.

In a fleeting moment of despair, I turned my head right and left searching for any lifeline, and I spotted the heavy wine bottle sitting on the table.

With the speed of lightning, I gathered every ounce of strength in my trembling body, gripped the neck of the bottle, and brought it down on his head with all the resentment and oppression I possessed.