Amira's fingers grazed the cold marble of the hallway railing as she made her way back upstairs. Her declaration—"On my terms"—still echoed in her ears. She hadn't chosen to stay out of love, not yet. She had chosen to stay for clarity, for strength, and maybe, just maybe, to reclaim control of a life that had never truly been hers.
The next morning, a change swept through the mansion. The staff no longer looked at her like a stranger. Jordan didn't treat her like a ticking clock on a contract. Something subtle had shifted. And it was her doing.
She found Jordan in the solarium, reading with a fresh cup of coffee. His sharp eyes lifted the moment he sensed her presence.
"You didn't leave," he said simply.
"I didn't," she replied, sitting across from him. "But that doesn't mean I've forgiven you. Or that I understand what any of this really means. You owe me more, Jordan."
He set his cup down. "I know. And I intend to tell you everything."
---
The Enemy Revealed
Later that day, Jordan summoned her to the war room again—only this time, Mila and two other men were present. They stood before a digital map illuminated with red dots that seemed to blink like threats.
"This," Jordan said, gesturing toward the largest red dot, "is the man behind the recent breach. Richard Wolfe. He used to be my father's right hand. But when my grandfather left everything to me, Richard vanished… until now."
"Why would he come back now?" Amira asked.
"Because Project X is nearing completion. There are assets—properties, names, codes—that will soon be unlocked by bloodline authorization. Mine. And now, yours, since you're legally bound to me."
She blinked. "You mean… I'm a target because I married you?"
Jordan's jaw tightened. "Yes. Richard believes hurting you will destabilize me—and force me to hand over everything."
---
A Dangerous Invitation
That evening, a letter arrived. Sealed in black wax. Delivered by an unknown courier who vanished before the security team could stop him.
Jordan read it, his expression unreadable.
"What is it?" Amira asked.
"A message from Richard." He handed her the letter.
> Dinner. One night. Neutral ground. You and me. No guards. No lies. No weapons. Just truth. Midnight. If you refuse, I take something of yours.
—R
Amira stared at it. "You can't go. It's a trap."
"I have to." Jordan met her eyes. "But I won't go alone."
"You mean…?"
"I want you with me."
Amira's chest constricted. "Why would you put me in the same room as a man who wants me dead?"
"Because you deserve to hear the truth from more than just me. And because if this is the game Richard wants to play—then I want you by my side, not in the dark."
---
The Calm Before the Storm
That night, the mansion was quieter than usual. Mila prepared Amira for the outing—subtle bulletproof lining stitched into her black coat, a silent communication chip placed behind her ear.
"You don't have to be brave," Mila said softly. "Just be smart. Watch everything. And don't underestimate how powerful you've become in his world."
Amira looked in the mirror and barely recognized herself. Gone was the helpless girl sold into silence. She was something else now—something sharper.
By midnight, the car rolled into the outskirts of the city, a private villa glowing in eerie candlelight.
Jordan stepped out first. Amira followed.
Richard was already waiting—his smile slow, confident, and cruel.
"Ah," he said, his eyes landing on Amira. "The infamous bride. This just got interesting."