Noura's POV
The door swung open like a mouth full of sharp teeth, and I didn't even have time to run before callous hands grabbed me from behind. Not gentle hands at all, but iron-like fingers that bit into my arms and hauled me upright like I weighed nothing than a paper…oh god, I'm so dead.
"Don't." The voice cut through the darkness, cold and precise. American accent, but with something older underneath. Something that made my skin crawl. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
I twisted, trying to break free, still, I will never go down without a fight - but sincerely, I simply ran out of luck…why am I so unlucky? These men weren't your regular security guards, these b*stards moved like military men….surely they'd done this a thousand times before, dragging terrified women through midnight hallways like it's another Tuesday for them.
The folder. God, the folder with Dad's photos was still clutched against my chest, evidence of everything I'd discovered. Evidence they'd never let me keep.
"The documents," one of the guards said, reaching for the manila folder.
"Leave them." That voice again, coming from somewhere in the shadows. "She'll need them for what comes next."
What comes next? My stomach dropped like I'd swallowed a really heavy stone.
They dragged me through corridors I'd never seen before, deeper into the estate's forbidden sections. No windows here. No escape routes. Just dark wood paneling and the kind of silence that screams money, secrets and power.
My bare feet slipped on the marble floors as they hauled me along, my housekeeper's uniform riding up, my hair falling loose from its careful bun. Two months of planning and preparation, ruined in ten minutes of hubris.
Should've listened to that voice in my head. Should've waited. Should've been more careful.
But I'd been so close to the truth about Dad...
The guards stopped in front of massive double doors and opened it. The chamber beyond looked like something out of a medieval castle, all stone walls and heavy tapestries and furniture that probably cost more than Cairo's entire police budget.
Candles flickered in wall sconces, casting dancing shadows that made everything feel alive and threatening.
But it was the chair in the center of the room that made my blood freeze.
Not just any chair. A throne, basically. High-backed and carved from dark wood, with armrests wide enough to rest a person's hands while they... while they did whatever people did in rooms like this.
"Kneel her there," the voice commanded from the shadows, and suddenly I understood what was happening.
This wasn't an interrogation. This was a judgment.
The guards forced me to my knees on the cold stone floor in front of the throne, their hands on my shoulders keeping me from running. The stolen folder scattered its contents across the floor around me - surveillance photos of Dad, documents with his name, evidence of lies that went back thirteen years.
Evidence that was about to get me killed.
Footsteps echoed through the chamber. Slow, measured, like someone in no hurry at all. Like they had all the time in the world to decide my fate.
And then he stepped into the light.
I'd seen glimpses of him before, always from a distance, always half-hidden in shadows. But now, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, I got my first real look at the Heir - Finn Barron.
Tall. Lean. Moving with the kind of controlled grace that screamed danger. Expensive suit that probably cost too much to imagine, perfectly tailored to fit his frame like armor…. probably blood money…mtchewww.
But it was the mask that made my breath catch in my throat.
Not some cheap Halloween thing. This was art. Gold and silver worked into intricate patterns that covered his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. Those eyes... ice blue and completely emotionless.
He settled into the throne with casual confidence, hands resting on carved armrests. Everything about his posture screamed power and absolute certainty that he owned everything in this room.
Including me.
"Detective Noura Missiri," he said, my name sounding like a death sentence. "Twenty-three years old. Born in Cairo. Currently employed by art crimes division, though you've been on extended leave for three months."
My mouth went dry. He knew. He'd known all along.
"Your mother is Amira Missiri, age forty-five, currently residing at 23 Sharia El Nil in Cairo. Recently remarried to Detective Bashir Kam, your father's former partner." His head tilted. "She believes you're working deep cover for international law enforcement. How... touching."
No. If he knew about Mom...
"Your boyfriend is Detective Kamal Nasir. Twenty-six. Currently very worried about your lack of communication."
"You infiltrated my household as 'Nadia Hassan,' with impressively thorough forged documents. You've been photographing my family, memorizing our security protocols, sending encrypted reports to your boyfriend's laptop."
He leaned forward. "Did you really think we didn't know? From the moment you stepped foot here, you've been watched. Every move catalogued."
"You thought you were hunting us. How delightfully naive. You were never the hunter, Detective Missiri. You were always the prey."
I found my voice finally. "What did you do to my father?"
"Your father made the same mistake you did," he said finally. "He thought he understood what he was dealing with. He thought he could control the situation." A pause that stretched like eternity. "He was wrong."
"You killed him". I shouted at him, it wasn't a question, it was the goddamn truth.
"I was eighteen when your father died, Detective. Barely more than a child myself." Finn's head tilted again, and I caught a glimpse of something almost human in his expression. Almost. "But if you're asking whether my family was responsible for his fate... that's a more complicated question."
Complicated. Like murder was some kind of philosophical debate.
"Let me make this simple for you," he continued, settling back in his throne. "You have uncovered secrets that could destroy everything my family has built over centuries. You know too much to simply walk away. You've seen too much to pretend this never happened."
I knew what was coming. Had known from the moment they'd dragged me into this chamber. But hearing him say it still made my world spilt painfully.
"You have one choice, Detective Missiri." His voice was clinical, matter-of-fact. Like he was discussing the weather. "Marry me, or leave this house in a coffin."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Marriage. To this monster. This cold, calculating creature who spoke about my father's death like it was ancient history.
"You're insane," I whispered angrily.
"Am I?" He stood up from the throne, moving toward me with that same predatory grace. "You're brilliant, and also given your father's intelligence, and your own proven capabilities. You already know our secrets, which eliminates the complications that usually arise with outside marriages."
He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could see is blue eyes. Close enough to smell his cologne - expensive and subtle and somehow threatening.
"Most importantly," he continued, "you have no family left except your mother, your father's friend, and maybe your boyfriend. Which are veryyy easy to manage."
The threat was clear. Crystal clear.
"If I refuse?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Then tomorrow morning, the authorities will receive word that you suffered a tragic accident while investigating art smugglers in New York. Your body will never be found, of course. Just like your father's."
My hands clenched into fists. "And anyone who tries to look for me?"
"Anyone who digs too deep will simply vanish—another unsolved case, another name lost in the files.
These things happen in dangerous professions." Finn's tone never changed, never betraying even a hint of emotion.
I wanted to scream. To fight. To claw that mask off his face and show him what happened to people who threatened my family. But the guards' hands were still on my shoulders, and I could feel their strength like steel cables.
I was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
"What... what would this marriage entail?" The words tasted like poison in my mouth.
"You asked what you'll be doing.
For now, you'll follow my instructions and learn the rules. You won't share what you see or hear outside this family. You'll respect my authority in all family matters." He paused briefly, a flicker of satisfaction in his voice.
"When the time comes, you'll have access to certain resources—nothing more for now."
He kept the rest close, knowing exactly how much I wanted answers about my father. But for now, that was all I was going to get.
"How long do I have to decide?" I asked, hating myself for even asking.
"Until dawn." Finn turned away from me, moving back toward his throne. "Guards will escort you to appropriate quarters. You'll have everything you need to make an informed decision."
Two of the guards hauled me to my feet, their grip just shy of painful. But as they started to drag me toward the doors, Finn's voice stopped them.
"Don't waste time looking for escape routes," he said, settling back like a medieval king. "This estate has contained far more dangerous prisoners than one Egyptian detective with daddy issues."
The doors slammed shut like a coffin lid closing.
They dragged me upstairs to a luxurious prison—a five-star hotel suite with reinforced windows overlooking manicured gardens.
"Food will be brought at regular intervals. Do not attempt contact or damage anything," the guard warned.
"What happens if I do?"
"You won't like finding out."
The door clicked shut.
Marriage. To that monster who'd probably ordered Dad's death before he was legal drinking age. Dawn—my deadline to choose between becoming his wife or joining my father in whatever grave they'd hidden him.
But sitting in that beautiful cage, one thought circled like a vulture: If I married him, played along, I'd be inside their defenses. Inside their family. With access to information that could finally reveal the truth about Dad's death.
It would take years. Cost me everything I'd planned.
But it might be my only path to justice.
Hours until dawn. Hours to decide whether to become a monster's bride or die.
"You were never the hunter, Detective Missiri. You were always the prey."
Maybe for now, I thought, already planning.