Viki had long been a shadow in Alia's past—a Russian spy who had once worked alongside her but had always harbored a hidden intention to destroy her. Back then, Alia didn't realize it. The way Viki stood by her side had all been a performance, a carefully crafted illusion to keep his real motives hidden.
By the time Alia uncovered the truth, it was already too late. Viki had disappeared, vanishing into his own secretive path. Yet, even under the weight of betrayal, Alia's inner strength never crumbled. She learned that Viki's ties to Russia were rooted in a deeper conspiracy, one specifically aimed at her destruction. And she knew the game was only becoming more dangerous.
After Viki's disappearance, Alia moved forward with a renewed resolve. She understood now—an even more fearsome battle awaited her. But the fire of vengeance burned in her heart. She vowed that no matter what came next, she would not back down. This fight wasn't only against her enemies; it was also against the storms within her.
Returning home after several hours outside, Alia felt a quiet heaviness settle on her. While preparing a cup of tea, her mind unwillingly returned to the memories of her last conversation with Viki. Just then, her phone lit up with a name she hadn't expected—"Victor."
She picked up the phone, hesitating slightly before answering.
"Hello?" There was a touch of uncertainty in Alia's voice.
Victor—the man with whom her relationship had never been simple—spoke softly.
"Alia… what are you doing? I miss you… so much."
Alia remained silent for a few seconds. His words stirred something deep within her. Because of everything between them, she had to tread carefully. She took a breath and replied,
"I'm fine, Victor."
There was a pause on the other end, then Victor said in a slightly sorrowful tone,
"Alia, I know things were never easy between us. But I… I just want to make it right. I realize the mistakes I made. But without you, I don't know how to move forward."
Alia composed herself and spoke with calm determination.
"Victor, I understand what you're saying. But the path you chose is very different from mine. The road I'm on now requires tough decisions."
Victor, a little disheartened, replied,
"I know. But… do you ever wonder if our story is truly over? If maybe, someday, we might find each other again?"
At that, Alia softly said,
"I've already told you… we'll be together. So why are you afraid?"
Victor exhaled deeply, as if a weight had lifted off his chest.
"I was worried… I didn't know what you were thinking."
Alia smiled faintly. Their conversation shifted, softening into a more romantic exchange.
After the call ended, Alia sat in silence, emotions crashing within her like waves. Some decisions are never easy—and Victor's words had stirred her heart. Because deep down, Alia knew—Victor was now her husband.
Then suddenly, Victor called again.
"Alia, you'll have to leave next month."
"Where?" she asked.
"To Scotland," he replied.
"Scotland? Why?" she asked, confused.
"There's something urgent I need to discuss with you," Victor said quietly.
Alia agreed. "Alright, I'll come."
But as she hung up, something inside her cracked. Her trembling hand dropped the glass she was holding. It shattered on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks. With the shards of glass scattered around her feet, it felt like all her pain, betrayal, and sorrow had burst forth. At that moment, she felt like she could trust no one anymore.
The betrayal of Viki, the complicated tenderness from Victor, her own silent war—they were all pressing down on her soul. But after a few moments, Alia drew a long breath and stood tall again. She made a decision: she would move forward.
Because she knew—every choice comes with a price. And right now, her greatest battle was not just against the outside world, but within herself. The battle to conquer her own fears.
With a trembling voice, Alia whispered to herself,
"My name is Princess Alia. I've seen the kind of people who will do anything for their own benefit. And Viki… he's my oldest enemy."
Her voice carried deep resentment, each word cutting into her heart like a fresh wound. Viki—the man who once stood beside her—had become her greatest betrayal. And though it had scarred her, that very pain had begun to transform into strength.
"Viki tried to destroy me," she added. "And I know he'll never stop. But I won't stop either."
There was fire in her eyes now, a new direction forming on her face. No matter which path her enemy took, Alia knew—she would never let herself be defeated.
Alia was a princess with a life full of mystery and enemies. Viki, a Korean man, had once been her closest ally, now her oldest enemy. His deception was a carefully laid trap, designed to keep her blind.
And Victor, the Russian man, had never been easy to deal with. Even he had his own secret plans, once trying to draw her into his web again.
Alia now knew—both men had darkened her life. But she refused to walk the path they laid for her. Their shadows lingered, but Alia had vowed to chase those shadows away with her own light.
So, with a heavy yet determined heart, Alia departed for Scotland.
The biting cold stung her skin, but her inner flame burned brighter than ever. The wind swept through her hair as the mountains loomed behind drifting clouds. Everything felt like a new beginning.
Amidst the icy winds of Scotland, she felt something change within her. A warmth rising from her core. With every step, she grew stronger. The past, the pain—she had left them behind. Now it was time to look ahead.
And yet, the real reason for coming to Scotland was still ahead of her.
As she walked through the chilled air, suddenly—Alia collided with someone. She lost her balance and was about to fall, but a hand caught her.
She looked up—and into the eyes of someone she never expected to see.
Sweat on his brow, a smirk on his lips—Viki.
Alia froze for a moment.
"It's you… Viki?"
Viki gave her a cold smile. "Yes. It's me."
A storm of emotions swirled within her. In this unfamiliar, frozen place, his presence unsettled her. But at the same time, it hinted at something deeper—a new mystery.
Why was he here? What did he want?
Viki helped her to her feet slowly, but Alia could feel the tension in the air. She knew—more secrets lay ahead, and she wasn't going to let the shadows escape this time.
Then Viki, with a voice as firm as stone, said:
"I'm not leaving you, Alia."
Alia was stunned, but deep down, she knew this man—knew that whenever he spoke like this, it was never without purpose. Confusion flickered across her mind for a moment. Then, she steadied herself and said coldly,
"What do you want, Viki? Why have you come back into my life?"
Viki looked into her eyes with a strange, challenging glint.
"I didn't just come to follow you, Alia. I came because I know… you'll understand."
A fire sparked in her heart. She was filled with questions, with rage. She knew Viki wanted to entangle himself in her life once again—but this time, she wouldn't back down.
He extended his hand, as if to help her again. His eyes held a silent resolve, as if trying to pull her onto a new path.
Alia looked at his hand, and in that moment, memories flooded her mind. The first time they had met. How he had offered help back then too. And how she hadn't known what he truly wanted.
She stood silently for a few seconds, then—unable to hold back the storm within—she reached out and grabbed his hand.
"You're still trying to bring me back?" she said quietly, with a fierce glint in her voice.
Viki smiled faintly, gripping her hand tighter, as if he already knew—Alia was on the edge of the most important decision of her life.
Looking directly into his eyes, Alia said,
"You know I can't run anymore. But I also know—this journey will end, one way or another."
And so, a new chapter began between them—a chapter full of mystery, trust, and vengeance, wrapped tightly around each other like shadows dancing in the dark.
Later, after Viki had walked away, Alia stood alone. A strange emptiness consumed her. All her pain and inner turmoil were standing before her like uninvited ghosts.
Then she noticed a luxurious black car parked quietly nearby. It gleamed under the fading sky, as if something unexpected was about to unfold.
A man stood beside the car, dressed sharply and exuding quiet authority.
He looked at Alia and said in a calm, low voice,
"Do you know, Princess, it's dangerous to walk alone on roads like this?"
Alia paused, then turned to face him. There was suspicion in her eyes, but also a strange curiosity.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady.
The man smiled gently and stood tall.
"My name is Sian. I've come to help you."One morning Morning light streamed in through the large windows. The room was quiet, broken only by the soft sound of pages turning.
Alia sat on the sofa, wearing her glasses, reading a book. One hand held the book, the other her phone—its screen lighting up now and then with notifications.
She wore a white shirt-style top, a black coat draped behind her. Below, black skirt-like pants, and shoes—black on top, red underneath. In the gentle morning light, she looked strangely calm yet resolute.
Victor stood by the door.
"Studying so early in the morning?" he asked.
Without lifting her eyes, Alia replied, "When it's quiet, the mind stays clear."
Victor stepped closer and stopped by the table, looking at her.
"You look different today," he said softly.
Alia finally looked up. Through her glasses, her gaze settled on Victor's tie. A moment of silence. Then she stood—very close.
"Different?" Alia said, a faint smile curving her lips.
Suddenly, she took hold of Victor's tie. Not too hard—but firmly enough. With the pull, Victor took a step forward. The distance between them disappeared.
Victor didn't flinch. He only lowered his eyes.
"What are you doing?" His voice was low.
Alia looked at him—steady, confident.
"I'm listening to you," she said, still holding the tie.
Silence fell again. The morning light, the scent of books, and the pull of that tie—together, the moment grew strangely heavy.
Alia didn't wait any longer.
She pulled the tie harder—bringing him so close that Victor's breath caught. The morning light seemed to cling to the window, as if it didn't want to witness the moment.
Victor didn't step back.
His hands naturally wrapped around Alia's waist—firm, unbroken—just as if he knew this pull wouldn't be stopped.
"Alia—"
Before the word could finish, Alia looked at him. There was no hesitation in her eyes.
The next moment, Victor pressed his lips to hers.
A brief but deep kiss—as if everything was said without words. Time stood still; only their breathing moved together.
Alia didn't release the tie.
Victor didn't loosen his hold at her waist.
No words were spoken.
That morning, in that room—silence said everything.Alia finally released the tie.
Her fingers slowly fell away, as if the decision was hers—yet she didn't want the moment to end.
But Victor didn't let her go.
In a single motion, he gripped Alia's waist firmly and, with a light yet decisive movement, lifted her onto the edge of the table. The cool touch of the wood pressed against her back. Victor stood in front of her, his eyes holding a look that showed no intention of stopping.
Alia looked at him. There was no fear—only caution and fire.
Victor didn't look away for even a second.
He leaned in slowly and brushed his lips against her neck—a soft, steady kiss. No rush, no demand—just a silent declaration.
Alia's breath caught for a brief moment.
Victor's hand was still at her waist—unchanged.
No words were spoken.
Only the morning light lingered by the window, and inside the room hung a silence where both of them knew this pull would not break easily.
At that exact moment, a faint sound came from the doorway.
The maid had entered the room carrying a tray. As soon as she looked up, she saw the scene—Victor very close to Alia, Alia on the edge of the table, the distance between them almost nonexistent in the morning light.
The girl's eyes widened.
The tray slipped from her hands.
"Allah—"
Before the word could finish, she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
Alia jolted.
"Oh God—!"
Victor immediately released Alia's waist. Taking a step back, he let out an irritated breath.
"Damn it…"
There was clear annoyance in his voice, frustration at the situation.
Alia quickly got down from the table and adjusted her glasses. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, but the firmness in her eyes remained.
Victor looked at the girl lying on the floor, then at Alia.
"In this house, even silence doesn't last," he said coldly.
Noise returned to the room—but the heavy, quiet moment from just before was gone, something no one could bring back.