My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 227: 227/Flashback (8)

Chapter 227: Flashback – The Surgeon of Truth

Author’s POV (23 Years Ago)

Violet ran her delicate fingers over Morgan’s bare chest with a provocatively slow deliberation. She looked into his eyes with a gaze that ignited with defiance and whispered, ”It’s getting warm in here... I think I should take off my dress.”

She rose from her position over him with agile grace, standing before the bed where the light fell directly upon her. Her hand reached for the side zipper, pulling it down in one confident motion.

The red dress fell in a smooth, fluid slide, pooling at her feet. Morgan stared in disbelief, his breath hitching as he took in the details of her body; she was wearing provocative red lingerie that matched the dress, contrasting perfectly with her pale skin.

”I should tie my hair as well,” she remarked, inspecting her strands. ”I’ll go get a tie from my bag.”

Morgan watched with hungry eyes as she strutted out of the room. Damn her, she was truly torturing him.

He felt the strain of the restraints on his wrists as he tried to move in vain; he couldn’t stand the thought of not touching her when she was this close. Questions whirled in his head like a hurricane: She wasn’t like this yesterday. Yesterday, she let him do whatever he wanted. Why was she refusing and playing with his nerves today?

Amidst his racing thoughts, Violet re-entered the room carrying her bag. She opened it calmly and pulled out a simple hair tie.

Lifting her arms high to gather her hair, she gave Morgan a clear view of her back. It was then that he noticed a tiny, dark mole at the nape of her neck a single point of attraction against the stark whiteness of her skin.

Violet tied her hair into a tight ponytail, then turned to him with a mysterious smile. Standing at the edge of the bed, she asked in a playful tone, ”Now... what shall we do?”

”Really?” Morgan asked, his voice thick with a mix of irritation and desire as he strained against the ties. ”Am I going to stay tied up like this?”

Violet leaned over him slowly, still clutching her bag. A secretive, knowing smile spread across her face. ”I told you, I want you to be satisfied, Morgan,” she said in a calm, steady voice.

She leaned in closer until her breath fanned his skin. She locked her gaze with his smoldering, confused gray eyes and whispered with absolute confidence, ”I’ll make sure you never forget this night.”

In the blink of an eye, Violet pulled a syringe from her bag and plunged it into Morgan’s arm in cold blood. Morgan jolted instinctively, trying to pull his arm away, but the restraints held him fast. ”What did you do?!” he gasped, his breath hitching.

He barely finished his question before he felt a strange wave of coldness surging through the veins of his arm, crawling toward his chest like ice invading his blood. Suddenly, he found himself unable to speak; his tongue stiffened in his throat.

He tried to move his limbs, even a single finger, but his body ceased to respond entirely. He had become a prisoner inside a statue of stone.

Violet held the empty syringe before his eyes, a cold smile chilling his very soul. ”My dear Morgan... this syringe contains a substance called Rocuronium. It paralyzes all movement. You won’t even be able to blink.”

Morgan stared at her, his eyes bulging with pure terror. He tried with every ounce of strength in his being to force a reaction to scream, to flinch but there was nothing. Not an inch of him moved. Even his chest rose and fell with a hauntingly mechanical rhythm.

Violet climbed over him again, straddling his lap. She leaned down and whispered into his ear, ”Do you like this?” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small leather kit. Morgan watched her movements with a lethal helplessness, the realization that he was in grave danger gnawing at his mind.

She opened the small kit slowly, her tone suddenly shifting into a hiss. ”You called me a whore... didn’t you?”

Morgan understood nothing. The questions raced through his paralyzed mind: Isn’t that her job? Why is she upset now?

”I came to your house yesterday?” Violet continued, staring into his fixed eyes. ”You should look for the person you actually fucked, Morgan.”

This only confirmed Morgan’s theory of split personality. Yes, she must be insane, or suffering from some psychological break.

But his thoughts were cut short when Violet pulled a silver medical scalpel from the kit. Its blade glinted under the dim lights of the room.

Morgan’s heart began to race at a frantic pace; he felt it thumping in his chest like a drum about to burst, while his external body remained submerged in an icy stillness. He screamed silently: What is she going to do to him?

”Do you know the fun part in this?” Violet said, passing the blade of the scalpel near the skin of his bare chest. ”You will feel everything.”

The scalpel dipped slowly until it touched the upper part of Morgan’s chest, sending a terrifying shiver through what remained of his courage. Violet moved with the cold precision of a medical professional, her eyes fixed on the spot she had carefully chosen.

She began to press the scalpel gently, watching the pulse in his neck quicken. ”Tonight,” she whispered in a low, hushed voice, ”I am going to tattoo the truth onto your body, since your mind couldn’t grasp it through words.”

She dragged the sharp blade across his skin, leaving a thin red line that began to bleed slowly.

Morgan screamed internally from the sudden, cold pain, but his body remained as still as a corpse. His eyelids didn’t even flicker. Sweat poured profusely from his forehead, and his bloodshot eyes followed every movement of her hand.

”You will be satisfied with my performance today,” she said, wiping a small drop of blood with her index finger. ”Because I am Violet, and I do not allow anyone to leave unsatisfied.”

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