The next few days felt like a whirlwind. Imran's plan to destabilize Zafar's empire was moving faster than anyone had anticipated. Every ally Zafar had worked so hard to secure was being targeted—his businesses, his friends, even his personal life was being dragged through the mud. It was clear: Imran wasn't just after power. He wanted to destroy Zafar completely, to make him suffer for every moment he had stolen.
Zafar was always two steps ahead, but even he couldn't predict the depths to which Imran would sink. It wasn't just business anymore. Imran was playing dirty. He had dug into Zafar's past, threatening to expose secrets—things even Zoha didn't know about Zafar. The deeper he dug, the more dangerous the game became.
Zoha sat in the living room, staring at the flickering screen of her phone. Every news outlet was covering the same story: Zafar Iqbal's empire was crumbling. His enemies were lining up, and the accusations against him were starting to gain traction.
She hadn't seen Zafar for hours. He had been holed up in his office, working tirelessly with his team to figure out how to stop Imran. Zoha knew he was under an immense amount of pressure, but it didn't make the fear in her chest any easier to ignore. The man she had fallen in love with—the man who had given her everything—was now facing the possibility of losing it all.
Just as she was about to call him, the front door opened, and Zafar walked in. His suit was slightly disheveled, his face shadowed by exhaustion. But there was something in his eyes—a hard, cold determination that Zoha hadn't seen in a long time.
"Zafar," Zoha breathed, standing up as he entered the room. "Are you okay?"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept over her, and Zoha saw the toll this was taking on him. The man who had once been full of control, full of resolve, now seemed worn thin.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice low. "Just tired."
Zoha didn't believe him, but she knew Zafar wouldn't open up unless he was ready. "What's happening? Is Imran getting to you?"
Zafar's eyes darkened. "He's trying. He's trying everything to destroy me. But I won't let him." His voice was steady, but the strain was unmistakable. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect us. You and Ezra."
Zoha's heart clenched at the mention of Ezra. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life. "But Zafar, what if… what if you can't stop him? What if he does expose everything? What if the truth about your past comes out?"
Zafar walked toward her, his eyes locking onto hers. "I will never let anything happen to you or Ezra. Do you understand? No matter what comes, I will protect you."
Zoha's breath hitched in her throat. She could see how much this was hurting him. Zafar wasn't just fighting for his business. He was fighting for his family. And no matter how strong he was, Zoha could feel the weight of the battle in his soul.
Later that night, as Zoha lay in bed beside Ezra, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled deep in her chest. Zafar was downstairs, working late again. She knew the toll this was taking on him, but she also knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Imran was relentless, and Zafar's past was now coming back to haunt him in ways he had never expected.
The sound of the front door opening pulled Zoha from her thoughts. She quickly sat up in bed, her heart racing. Was it Zafar?
She waited, her eyes glued to the door, until she finally heard footsteps on the stairs. But these weren't Zafar's footsteps. They were heavier, more deliberate. She felt her blood run cold as she recognized the person who was coming.
"Zafar?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The figure that entered the room wasn't Zafar. It was a man she had never seen before. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark suit, his cold, calculating eyes locked onto Zoha's.
"You don't know me, but I know you," the man said, his voice low and dangerous.
Zoha's heart thudded in her chest. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her mind raced to piece together what was happening.
"What do you want?" she finally managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.
The man smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was cruel, full of malice. "I'm here on Imran's behalf. He wants you to know that no one is safe—not you, not Zafar. And when he's done, you'll regret ever being part of his life."
Zoha's blood ran cold. Imran's reach was far longer than she had imagined, and now he was sending people into her home, into her life. She tried to steady her breathing, but fear gripped her heart.
"What are you going to do?" Zoha demanded, her voice rising in defiance.
The man didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a step forward, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for weakness. "Imran wants Zafar to feel pain. And he'll make sure that happens… through you."
Before Zoha could react, the man turned and walked out of the room, leaving her frozen in place. Her mind raced, a storm of thoughts and fears swirling inside her.
What was Imran planning now? How far was he willing to go to break Zafar?
As the night stretched on, Zoha could hardly sleep. The quiet of the house felt suffocating, the shadows in the corners of the room pressing in on her. Her thoughts kept returning to Zafar and the dangerous path he was walking. He had always protected her, but now it was her turn to protect him.
She knew that the coming days would test them both. And Zoha wasn't sure what would break first—their love, or their lives.