Leyla wiped her tears away, taking a deep breath as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but there was no weakness left in them—only cold determination.
Without another thought, she turned away and walked toward her wardrobe. Enough of feeling broken. Enough of feeling betrayed.
She pulled out a simple black dress—knee-length, elegant, but effortless. No more flashy outfits.
Her long hair cascaded freely over her shoulders as she let it be—wild, untamed, just like the storm inside her.
Taking one last glance at the mirror, she straightened her posture and stepped out of the room.
As she walked downstairs, the echoes of her own footsteps filled the empty mansion. She wasn't the same Leyla who had cried herself to sleep last night.
Leyla walked into the dimly lit café, her sharp eyes scanning the room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the quiet hum of conversations, but she wasn't here to enjoy the atmosphere.
Her gaze locked onto the man sitting in the far corner. He was already there, waiting. Dark hoodie, a cigarette between his fingers, and an expression that said he'd seen too much of the world.
She didn't offer a greeting—just a simple nod. Acknowledgment.
Sliding into the seat across from him, she leaned back, arms crossed. There was no trust here. She had been betrayed too many times to let her guard down now.
"You know the job," she said coolly. "I want eyes on Ozan and Hayat. Every move, every word."
The man smirked, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into the tray. "That'll cost you."
Leyla already knew that. Money wasn't the problem. Trust was.
She pulled out a small envelope and slid it across the table. "Half now. Half when you bring me something useful."
The man picked up the envelope, flipping through the cash inside. Then, he met her gaze. "You got yourself a deal."
Leyla didn't reply. She simply stood up, fixing the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She had no reason to trust him—but this wasn't about trust.
This was about control.
"Hey! stop at least drink some coffee. I've already order it." He said.
Leyla raised a brow at his words, but she didn't move. She wasn't in the mood for small talk, but the exhaustion in her bones told her she could use the coffee.
Leyla sit back in her chair . "Fine. One coffee. Then I'm gone."
The waiter brought their coffees, and Leyla absentmindedly stirred hers. She wasn't here to make friends, yet the man across from her didn't seem to get the message.
"You never asked for my name," he said, tilting his head slightly.
Leyla took a sip of her coffee, keeping her gaze steady. "I don't need it."
His smirk widened. "Maybe not, but I'd still like to hear my name from you."
Leyla rolled her eyes. "That's not going to happen."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, then. Let's stick to business."
That was better. Business. She could handle that.
But as she sipped her coffee, she couldn't shake the feeling that this man wasn't just another informant.