My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 212: 212/Under the Enemy’s Wing

Chapter 212

Don Morgan’s POV

I walked into the safehouse with measured, steady strides, the cigarette still perched between my lips. I asked the guard in the foyer with a chilling indifference, ”Which room is the girl in?”

”The upstairs bedroom, sir. On the left,” the guard replied respectfully.

I climbed the stairs, feeling a strange rush of euphoria. I was eager to see this girl the one who had shattered Robert’s pride and forced both him and Carlos to their knees like children.

But as I reached the hallway, my heart constricted. The guard assigned to her door was missing. Suddenly, a high-pitched, terror-filled scream ripped through the silence.

I lunged for the door and kicked it open. The blood froze in my veins at the sight: my own guard, trousers down, his massive body lunging at the terrified girl. I didn’t think twice. I drew my weapon, aimed with lethal precision, and put a bullet directly through his dick.

The bastard let out a scream that shook the walls. I stepped closer and, with absolute coldness, emptied the rest of the clip into his skull.

”I hate rapists,” I muttered in disgust, turning my eyes away from the mess.

The girl was burying her face in the mattress, her body shaking violently. ”Quiet now,” I said, my voice attempting a calmness I didn’t feel. ”Nothing is going to happen to you.” The moment she lifted her head and looked at me, the world seemed to tilt.

I lost my balance for a second, catching myself against the wall. It couldn’t be. This was impossible.

Those shimmering green eyes, that long cascading brown hair, and those lips... Damn it! ”Violet?” I whispered, my senses overwhelmed by disbelief.

She looked at me, lost and dazed. ”Who... who are you?” she asked in a trembling voice.

I approached her slowly, as if I were approaching a ghost I feared would vanish. I gripped her arm with extreme gentleness and sat her up, then reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

No, this couldn’t be a coincidence. She looked exactly like a carbon copy of Violet from twenty-two years ago. ”Violet... you look just like her,” I breathed.

”I’m Julie!” she said, her breath coming in frantic gasps. ”I was kidnapped! Someone took me... help me, please!”

”Who kidnapped you?” I asked with a calculated concern, still trying to process the revelation.

”I don’t know who,” she sobbed. ”But this animal was trying to assault me.”

I scanned her, my eyes dark with protective rage. ”Did he touch you?”

She shook her head, wiping away her tears. ”No... he didn’t. Thank you... thank you for saving me.”

I studied her features even closer. ”What is your full name?”

”Julie Michael,” she replied softly.

Michael? Where had I heard that name? Then it clicked. The man who went to prison because the police found him at the restaurant and thought he was the killer. ”Is your father Stewart Michael?” I asked, stunned.

Her green eyes widened. ”Yes! How did you know?”

”And your mother... Meredith?” my pulse was racing now.

”You know my mother too?” she asked in bewilderment. ”Who are you... are you my uncle? I just recently found out I had an aunt, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I had an uncle too.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle despite the situation; her way of speaking was so much like hers. ”No... I’m not your uncle. Are you talking about Violet?”

”Yes,” she replied. ”I haven’t met her, but I only just found out she’s my aunt.” She looked at me pleadingly. ”Can you unlock these? I’m scared the kidnapper will come back and find us here.”

I snatched the keys from the dead guard’s pocket and unlocked the shackles on her hands and feet. She rubbed her reddened wrists, looking at me with a grateful smile. ”Thank you.”

At that moment, I noticed something.

She had two distinct dimples, even though neither Violet nor Meredith had them. ”You have dimples... just like me,” I said instinctively. ”Look.”

I smiled to show her mine, and she looked at me with a childlike wonder. ”Oh... yes!”

She scrambled off the bed, adjusting her clothes. ”I have to get out of here before the kidnapper comes back.”

I took her hand to reassure her. ”Come on. Follow me. I’m getting you out of here.”

”Really? You’d do that?” she asked, her joy almost heartbreaking.

”Yes,” I said, with a sincerity I hadn’t felt in years.

I was the one who kidnapped her. I was the one who caused her this terror. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her... something powerful prevented me from destroying that look in her eyes.

”There must be guards here who will stop us,” she whispered cautiously as we moved out of the room.

”No one will stop us,” I said with cold confidence.

She walked behind me, trying to hide in my shadow. When we reached the ground floor, the guards froze in their tracks, watching us in total disbelief. They couldn’t understand why the Don was walking out with the hostage so freely.

I pressed my finger to my lips, signaling for absolute silence. They lowered their heads immediately.

Once we were outside, she stopped suddenly and turned to me, suspicion finally creeping into her expression. ”Why didn’t the guards stop us?” she asked sharply. ”Are you... are you the kidnapper?”

”No,” I lied, keeping my cool.

”This makes no sense!” she said, taking a step back. ”You kidnapped me!”

”I didn’t,” I said smoothly. ”But the men inside... they’re my guards.”

She knit her brows in confusion. ”How? I don’t understand!”

I spun a lie on the spot. ”I came to this house looking for someone else. I found you by accident and saved you.”

She scrutinized my face. ”Really?”

”If I had kidnapped you,” I smiled thinly, ”would I be saving you now?”

She nodded slowly, seemingly convinced by the logic. ”Yes... that makes sense.”

I gestured for her to get into the car. She hesitated, then climbed in. I slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine; it roared to life. ”Take me to a restaurant in Manhattan called The Gilded Cage,” she said as she adjusted her seat.

”You’re not going there today,” I said, pulling away.

”What? Why?”

”Your life is still in danger,” I said, my eyes fixed on the road. ”You’re coming to my house.”

She protested immediately, her hands starting to shake. ”No, no! I don’t know you! How can I go with you? And now Robert...” She cut herself off as if she’d let a secret slip.

”Who is Robert?” I asked, glancing at her.

”My manager!” she said quickly, flustered. ”My manager will worry.”

”Your manager will worry about you?” I asked pointedly. ”And why didn’t you mention your parents?”

Panic flared in her eyes. She rubbed her hands together. ”Yes... my parents will worry too. How do you even know my parents?”

”An old acquaintance,” I said shortly.

”Oh... okay,” she whispered.

I was in a state of total inner turmoil. What was Meredith’s daughter doing in Robert’s club? And according to what Diego told me, her father sold her to Robert! What the hell is going on?