The next morning, Zara was summoned to the main sitting room by a maid who looked almost afraid to even speak the message.
"Sir Alhassan is waiting for you," she whispered, eyes down.
Zara frowned. "You mean Ameer?"
The maid shook her head. "No, ma. His father."
Zara's stomach tightened.
She hadn't officially met the infamous patriarch of the Alhassan family, but she had heard enough whispers to know—he wasn't a man who wasted time with small talk.
---
When she entered the sitting room, she found him seated like a king on a leather chair, dressed in white kaftan, a silver watch glinting on his wrist. His eyes were sharp, assessing her in one sweeping glance.
"So you're the girl my son married," he said, his voice smooth but cold. "Sit."
Zara sat, keeping her spine straight and her face calm.
"I didn't approve of this marriage," he continued. "But I allowed it. Do you know why?"
Zara shook her head, unsure whether she should speak.
"Because your father's disgrace was useful to me," he said. "And your obedience… even more so."
Zara blinked. "My father is innocent."
He leaned forward slowly, a cruel smile forming. "He was. Until I made sure he wasn't."
The room suddenly felt suffocating.
Zara's lips parted. "You framed him."
"I protected my legacy," he said simply. "And now, you're part of that protection. I don't care if you love my son. I don't care if he loves you. You're here to serve a purpose—one you'd be wise not to forget."
Zara stood up, shaking. "You can't control me."
His smile faded. "My dear girl, I already do."
Then he added, almost as a whisper, "And if you try to ruin the Alhassan name—like your father did—someone will get hurt. Again."
Zara backed away slowly, her heart racing.
---
She stormed out of the sitting room and almost bumped into Ameer in the hallway.
"Where were you?" he asked.
"I met your father," she snapped. "And now I understand why you're so cold."
He looked past her toward the door. "He called you in?"
"Yes. To remind me I'm nothing but a pawn in this family."
Ameer's expression hardened. "You shouldn't have gone alone."
Zara stepped closer. "Tell me the truth, Ameer. Was your father behind Leena's accident too?"
Ameer's eyes darkened.
"Don't ask questions that could get you killed," he said quietly.
Zara swallowed. "I already did."
Then she walked past him, not looking back.
But what she didn't see—what she couldn't see—was the figure watching them from the top of the stairs.
Layla.
Or Leena.
Still alive.
Still hiding.