After Jan left, she also took a taxi home by herself.
She had planned to spend some time with Izabella, but she was already asleep.
At that moment, she was lying on her bed with her legs hanging off the edge, lost in thought about Jan's behavior today.
From the very beginning, Jan's personality had seemed mysterious and complex to her. But today… Today was different. Him taking her shopping, holding her hand… and the thing that disturbed her the most—the glow in those deep blue eyes.
Thinking about it, she grabbed her phone, opened Google, and typed "Jan." Instantly, the search results appeared.
She read through his interviews and the articles written about him.
Jahan Jaffar. A man who, through sheer intelligence, had quickly made a name for himself in the business world.
A man known among women as a "lady killer."
A man whose deep ocean-blue eyes had the power to drown anyone.
A man who had been in relationships with several famous models, yet none had lasted more than a month.
There were many such things written about him, and reading them made Emma feel sick to her stomach.
"Could it be that Sir is trying to flirt with me?" she wondered, placing her phone on her chest.
"No, I won't let this happen. I won't let Sir play with me."
Muttering to herself, she didn't even realize when she drifted off to sleep, still lying half on the bed, her legs hanging off the edge.
The room's light was still on, and the window was open, allowing the cold breeze to brush against her skin.
Someone climbed in through the window.
His face was partially covered with a cloth.
The first thing he did was turn off the light. Now, only the faint glow of the moon illuminated the room, casting him as nothing more than a shadow.
He walked over to Emma and carefully adjusted her position, laying her properly on the bed.
He did this calmly, knowing she was a deep sleeper.
After making sure she was comfortable, he pulled a blanket over her.
"I promise… I'll be back soon. Then everything will be just like before," he whispered softly, his voice laced with pain.
For a moment, he gazed at her with longing.
Then, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he turned and disappeared back out the window.
---
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He, too, had a keycard to Jan's penthouse.
His breathing was heavy and erratic.
"Sir, it's good that you're here," James sighed in relief, having been anxiously pacing back and forth.
"What happened? Did you try opening the door? Any sounds? Any response from inside?" Derrick fired off questions, his worry evident.
"Sir, after you left, he drank a lot of wine. Then suddenly, he smashed the glass in his hand and started throwing everything he could get his hands on. After that, he locked himself in his room. You know his room is soundproof… I knocked two or three times, but he didn't answer."
As James spoke, Derrick scanned the penthouse.
It was a complete mess.
Glass shards littered the floor.
The cushions from the couch were scattered.
The LED screen was shattered.
The glass table was broken.
The entire place looked like a wreckage site.
Derrick instructed James to start cleaning up before heading toward Jan's room.
"Buddy…" He knocked. No response.
"Buddy, open the door…" His voice was almost pleading now. But still, silence.
A sinking feeling gripped Derrick's chest.
"Buddy, either you open this door, or I'll go hunt down every person responsible for your pain and kill them all. And after that, I'll end myself too."
His voice wavered. His mind was plagued with dark thoughts.
Then, finally—movement from inside.
The door unlocked.
Derrick exhaled in relief and looked up.
Jan stood in the doorway.
His hair was disheveled. His eyes—bloodshot.
The top buttons of his shirt were torn.
For a long moment, Derrick just stared at him.
Then, without a word, he punched him—hard—straight to the jaw.
Jan staggered but didn't fall.
He didn't say anything either.
He just stared back with those furious, red-rimmed eyes.
Derrick raised his fist to strike again, but this time, Jan caught his wrist before the blow could land.
Derrick responded by landing a punch to his stomach.
Jan nearly fell backward, barely managing to brace himself against the wall.
Neither spoke.
They simply fought—fists flying, emotions exploding.
James, busy with his cleaning, didn't intervene.
He had expected this.
After an intense brawl, they both collapsed onto the carpet, gasping for breath.
Jan's lip was bleeding.
His eye was starting to swell.
Derrick's nose was bleeding.
"Jan… If you ever pull this stunt again, I swear, you won't like what I'll do." Derrick, still lying on the carpet, panted between words.
Jan didn't reply. He just clenched his jaw and glared at the ceiling.
Derrick ground his teeth in frustration.
"Alright, fine. I know how to make you talk."
Then, after a brief pause, he said something that made Jan sit up abruptly.
"Someone put a hit out on me."
Jan's head snapped toward him.
"What do you mean? What happened?"
His face was etched with tension.
"First, you tell me—what the hell is all this?"
"What?" Jan feigned ignorance.
"The destruction. The isolation. The excessive drinking. I've known you long enough to know that you only do this when your inner demons take over. And your demons only surface when something—"
"Shut up, Derrick."
Jan cut him off, standing up abruptly. His tone was agitated.
"Who is it?"
Derrick stepped forward, ignoring him.
"Stop."
This time, Jan's voice was calm.
Derrick smirked, tapping his temple as if deep in thought.
"Let me guess…"
Jan already knew what name was about to come out of his mouth.
"Emma."
Jan closed his eyes, trying to steady his expression.
Trying to suppress the storm inside him.
"It's nothing like that." He said flatly.
"I wasn't even done talking, but you rushed to deny it. I was only saying that you were perfectly fine when you came back with Emma."
Jan averted his gaze.
"How long do you plan to keep running from yourself?"
Derrick stepped closer.
"There's nothing to run from. So stop prying." Jan snapped, his frustration evident.
"Fine. Let's see how long you keep lying to yourself."
Jan didn't respond.
"Now, tell me—who ordered the hit? What was the deal?"
"All I know is that they were given a contract to kill me. I could've found out more, but thanks to you, I lost the chance to interrogate them properly." Derrick sighed, turning on the lights.
As the room brightened, the contrast became clear.
Unlike the disaster outside, this room was untouched.
The walls were painted a calming blue.
The furniture was all wooden.
Compared to the rest of the penthouse, this room was the simplest—yet the most beautiful.
Everything was in its place, as if puzzle pieces fita together
On the wall beside the bed, four pictures were hanging.
One of Jafar Sahab.
One of Eva (Jan's mother).
One of Rocky.
And one of a small, nine-month-old baby girl—Jan's sister.
"What do you mean? Why because of me?" Jan asked, confused, turning to Derrick, who was now sitting on the couch, slowly rubbing his cheek where Jan had punched him.
Then, Derrick laid everything out in front of him.
"Hmm… They'll come again," Jan muttered, sitting beside him on the couch, pressing his fingers against his temple. It felt like explosions were going off in his head.
"I know… because thanks to you, they slipped through my hands. From now on, your responsibility is to protect me."
"Hmm…" Jan's voice was distant. Everything around him felt like a blur. His vision darkened.
And in that darkness… a scene played out.
A five-year-old boy… standing motionless, unblinking.
His face was blank. His helpless eyes silently watched what was in front of him.
A lifeless body soaked in blood… those voices…
A single tear escaped his eye and disappeared into his temple.
Darkness surrounded her. She was running, trying to escape it… Trees stretched endlessly on both sides.
The girl's face was unclear…
Her bare feet were wounded…
The more she ran, the more the darkness chased after her…
Shadows with glowing red eyes were closing in, reaching out as if to grab her.
The darkness thickened. She stumbled and fell.
And in that moment, the shadows encircled her from all sides.
They loomed over her.
She wanted to scream… but her voice was trapped, sealed by some unknown force.
Why couldn't she scream?
The glowing red eyes of the shadows remained fixed on her.
---
She jolted awake.
Drenched in sweat, her breath came in sharp gasps.
Her hands and feet felt cold.
She looked around—she was in her room.
It was just a dream.
She exhaled in relief.
Grabbing her phone, she checked the time—4:34 AM. The last hour of the night was nearly over. The sun would rise soon.
She sat up.
She had never seen such a strange dream before.
Her heart was still pounding abnormally fast.
It felt as if the dream's hold on her hadn't fully faded.
There was no way she could go back to sleep now.
Leaning back against the bed, she shut her eyes.
She didn't want to think about the dream.
But for some reason, her heart whispered otherwise…
It wasn't just a dream.
It was a warning.
A warning of something bad… something terrible.
Who was that girl?
She felt as if she knew her…
But who was she? If only she had seen her face, maybe she would have understood something.
But it was just a dream…
No, it wasn't a dream. It was a sign.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the message tone of her phone.
She glanced at the screen.
And as she read the message, her frown deepened with each word.
---
When she entered the park, she saw that Ema was already there—earlier than usual.
She was sitting on the bench, leaning against the backrest, staring at the ground.
Her face was dangerously serious.
That was enough for Hoor to realize that Ema had already read her message.
Hoor braced herself for the questions to come and sat beside her.
But Ema didn't acknowledge her presence.
"Nairaaz ho?" (Are you angry?) Hoor placed a hand on her shoulder.
Ema didn't respond.
She simply shrugged her shoulder, making Hoor's hand fall away.
She was very angry.
Hoor looked at her helplessly.
She wasn't even willing to look at her.
"Ema, at least listen to me… Don't be mad like this."
Ema's silence was unbearable.
"If my feelings mattered to you, you wouldn't have made this decision," Ema finally spoke, her voice firm, her gaze still on the ground.
"What do you think I should have done?"
This time, Hoor placed her hand on Ema's shoulder again—gently.
Ema didn't push it away.
That gave Hoor hope.
"You should have left him."
Hoor's heart clenched painfully at her words.
It felt as if Ema had asked her to tear her soul away from her body.
"Leave him?" she whispered.
"The man who married another woman… who didn't look back for three years… now suddenly he's here. Why?"
Ema turned to look at her, her expression unreadable.
Hoor felt a pang in her chest.
She had only told Ema in the message that her wedding with Aahil was set for next month.
Yet, Ema had already reached this conclusion.
If she told her about Aahil's child from his first marriage…
She didn't have the courage to think any further.
"Hoor… is there something you haven't told me?" Ema asked, watching her closely.
"… Ema, I can't leave him."
Her voice was distant, lost.
Ema was shocked.
"Why are you ruining your life for him?"
"I don't know… But just the thought of losing him… it feels like I can't breathe.
Ema, you don't understand.
Even if he hadn't returned, I would have spent my whole life in his name.
And you're telling me to—"
Hoor's voice broke.
She didn't realize when the tears had started falling from her eyes.
Ema watched her quietly.
"When are you leaving for Pakistan?"
Ema had made up her mind.
She wouldn't stop her anymore.
"In fifteen days…"
"Hmm… Alright. Let's walk now. I still have to go to work. My grumpy boss won't tolerate me being late."
She got up, brushing off the tension in the air.
When Hoor didn't move, Ema pulled her up by the hand.
"Hoor, you idiot, you're too good for this world. Love you, yaar."
Hugging her tightly, Hoor whispered in a tearful voice.
"You act like you never want to see me again," Ema sighed, blinking away the moisture in her eyes.
"You're such a drama queen."
Hoor pulled away, smiling through her tears and lightly punching Ema's shoulder.
"Thank you."
Ema bowed her head dramatically.
---
"Wow, we have some big shots visiting today."
Aahil, stepping out of his room, clenched his fists at the sound of Fahed's voice.
Fahed, the only son of Akram—Aafia Begum's elder son—was a spoiled brat.
He and Aahil had never gotten along.
Meanwhile, Aafia Begum's younger son, Mujeeb, had two daughters—Mehak and Muskan.
"Yeah, and the lowlifes were already here before us," Aahil shot back coldly.
"Oh? You didn't bring Hoorain with you?
Man, that girl was something… a real treat," Fahed smirked lewdly.
Aahil's patience snapped.
He had never been one to tolerate much anyway.
His fist connected with Fahed's face in a brutal punch.
Grabbing him by the collar, Aahil's fiery eyes bore into his.
"If you ever mention my wife's name again, I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs."
Fahed, despite his bruised and bleeding face, still managed a wicked smirk.
"Hoorain… a real addiction. Even more intoxicating than the last one…"
He never got to finish his sentence.
Aahil unleashed a storm of punches and kicks, knocking him down.
"What are you doing?! Step back!"
Aafia Begum rushed in, followed by Rafiq Butt.
She pushed Aahil away from Fahed.
"My poor child! What has this brute done to you?"
She cradled Fahed's face, wailing dramatically.
Blood dripped from his nose and lips.
Yet, the sick grin on his face remained.
"Aahil, what is the meaning of this?"
The booming voice of Daji echoed through the hall.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his gaze sharp and piercing.
Bilal Sahab was at his office.
Daadi was asleep after taking her medicine.
And now, the entire household—including the servants—had gathered.
"Daji, it's nothing… It was my fault. Aahil did nothing wrong," Fahed feigned innocence, putting on a pitiful expression.
"Tell me the full truth."
Daji's gaze was on Aahil.
His face was blank, but Daji's words were directed at Fahed.
"Nothing... Daji," Fahad pretended to brush off the matter.
"I need an answer," Daji said coldly, his eyes filled with anger.
"Well, Daji... I was just telling him that he should have listened to you," Fahad lowered his gaze in embarrassment.
"Aafia, take him away and call the doctor. Everyone else, go and start the wedding preparations," Daji dismissed them. As everyone left, Daji turned to leave as well, but then stopped. Without looking at Aahil, he said in a stern voice:
"Don't force me to throw you out again... You've already humiliated me enough. If you still intend to defy me, tell me now."
There was such cold detachment in his tone that Aahil felt his heart shatter, but he didn't let it show on his face.
As soon as Daji left, Aahil clenched his fists.
A storm of rage and hatred brewed inside him.
Striding out of the mansion, he got into his car and, as he pulled onto the road, made a phone call.
"Is my work done?"
"Okay... I'll come and see for myself."
Today's incident had solidified his resolve.
Now, the only question was—how much destruction would the storm of fury and hatred inside him bring?
---
"Why did you come? I could have come by myself like I do every day."
Ema threw a displeased glance at Hanan, who was driving. She didn't like being indebted to him. She preferred handling her own affairs.
Hanan, deep in thought, barely registered her words.
"Hanan, I'm talking to you!"
Not getting a response, she placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
"What exactly do you do in the office? What's your position?"
His sudden question confused her. She was saying one thing, and he was talking about something completely different.
"For now, I'm working as a secretary… until they appoint a permanent one."
Hearing this, Hanan's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"Ema, quit this job. I'll find you something else."
Ema was taken aback.
"You know very well that I don't like taking favors. Whatever I do, I want to achieve it on my own. I don't even like you picking me up and dropping me off!"
Hanan didn't know how to make her understand.
"Ema, I'm saying this for your safety… because I can't bear anything happening to you."
Frustrated, he pulled the car to the side and leaned back, closing his eyes. His entire focus was on convincing Ema to resign, and driving in this state had become difficult.
"I don't understand what you're saying. What could possibly happen to me?"
Ema was startled by his sudden stop, but even more confused by his words.
"How much do you know about Jehan?"
If Ema hadn't searched about Jehan last night, she wouldn't have understood whom Hanan was referring to.
"Hanan, just say it clearly. Why are you talking in riddles?"
She could tell something was off. She had never seen Hanan like this before.
"Ema..."
Turning toward her, he held her hands firmly in his. His eyes locked onto hers.
Ema looked at him, startled by his sudden action.
"Jehan is dangerous… Please, stay away from him."
He tightened his grip on her hands.
"Dangerous? In what way?"
For two minutes, Hanan kept his head down, as if preparing himself to speak.
"Ema… he murdered his own mother."
Hanan felt the tremor in Ema's hands the moment he said it.
"What?"
She barely managed to suppress a scream.
"That's not all… He also killed his sister… and a dog his mother had gifted him. His sister's body was never even found. Once, he even tried to attack Dad. That's why Dad sent him away to boarding school."
Ema sat frozen, her face turning pale. Her hands were ice-cold, and fear had dried her throat.
"Ema… are you okay?"
Worried by her silence, Hanan gently patted her cheeks, which had gone completely cold.
"What should I do now?"
Hearing her voice, Hanan sighed in relief.
"Resign today itself."
He handed her a water bottle from the car's dashboard.
Ema took it without a word. Her throat was parched.
"Yes… I'll resign."
She whispered to herself after drinking.
But her whisper wasn't lost on Hanan—it filled him with a sense of relief.
The car started moving toward its destination again.
Ema's mind flashed back to her dream from last night.
(Was that dream a warning that I was in danger? Did it mean that the girl in the dream was me… and the shadow was Jehan?)
A wave of nausea hit her. She had only had juice in the morning, skipping breakfast in a hurry because Hanan was waiting outside in the car.
She suddenly remembered the chocolate in her bag.
Quickly, she opened her bag, took out the chocolate, unwrapped it, and took a big bite.
Hanan stole a glance at her from the windshield. She was eating the chocolate like a child.
Seeing her like that, he found her irresistibly cute and innocent.
Some of the chocolate had smudged on her lips and cheek.
They reached the office.
Hanan parked the car and grabbed her hand just as she was about to get out.
She had put the remaining chocolate back in her bag and was opening the door.
Hanan glanced at the open door behind her, then pulled out a tissue.
Gently… lovingly… he wiped the chocolate off her lips and cheek.
At that moment, one thought dominated his mind—Was the chocolate sweeter… or her lips?
"Can you let go of my hand now?"
Unaware of his thoughts, Ema tried to pull her hand free.
"On one condition."
Hanan tightened his grip, gazing at her mischievously.
Hearing the word condition, Ema widened her big eyes in shock.
"What condition?"
…
"Give me that chocolate… then I'll let you go…"
Han knew all too well about Emma's craziness when it came to chocolate.
"Han, please…" Emma made an innocent face, trying to save her chocolate somehow.
"Nope." Han extended his free hand toward her.
Emma didn't realize it, but Han was distracting her. The fear she had felt just moments ago had now faded.
With a pout, she pulled out the remaining chocolate from her bag and handed it to him.
As soon as he took the chocolate, Han let go of her hand.
"Han, do you know you're really mean?" Emma said after stepping out of the car.
"Oh? I'm your friend… I have to be mean." Han replied while locking the car behind him.
Emma stomped away angrily.
"If not you… then at least your chocolate will do…"
Han took a small bite of the chocolate with a smile.
He didn't even like chocolate. But ever since he had started taking it from Emma like this, it had become the most delicious thing in the world to him.
"What's going to become of you, Han…" Running a hand through his hair, he sighed at himself and walked toward the VIP elevator.
---
Emma was feeling relaxed today. She knew she was late, but the decision to resign had made her feel light and unburdened.
When she arrived at John's office, she found it empty, which was unusual.
She quickly made coffee and followed John's instructions for work.
Once she was done, she checked the time—John still hadn't arrived.
Stepping out of his office, she went to her cabin, which she had received after becoming his secretary.
Her cabin was right next to John's office, separated only by a glass wall, which allowed her to see when he arrived or left.
"I should write my resignation letter…"
She had just started typing when the intercom buzzed.
"Come inside. Right now."
Looking at the glass wall, she saw John sitting in his chair, staring directly at her.
Seeing him, Han's words flashed in her mind, and fear crept back in.
Her eyes fell on the resignation letter in front of her, more than half-written. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and stepped into his office.
"Get ready. Today is Derrick and Olivia's shoot… at the beach. You're coming with me."
John's voice was cold as he studied her fearful face.
For the first time, he had addressed her informally, but Emma was too overwhelmed to notice.
(The smart thing to do would be to refuse, Emma. Your life is precious…)
Following her brain's advice, she spoke, though her voice was hesitant.
"S…Sir…"
John, rummaging through his drawer, barely spared her a glance.
"You're still here? What did I just say?" He snapped, his tone insulting.
"Sir… I can't go with you…"
Hearing her refusal, John completely lost it.
With a sharp jerk, he stood up and hurled a paperweight at the wall.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the office.
Emma shut her eyes in fear, thinking he had thrown it at her.
When she felt a strong grip on her wrist, she opened her eyes—only to find herself trapped in John's embrace.
She hadn't even processed the shock yet when his next action left her completely frozen.
Her breath hitched.
She struggled to free herself, but John seized both her hands in his grasp, making her efforts useless.
A burning sensation spread over her lips.
What was in his touch…?
Rage.
Obsession.
And perhaps… hatred, too.
Tears welled up in her eyes from helplessness.
Han was right.
He was completely right.
A few moments later, John stepped back, his sharp gaze scanning her face.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and she was struggling to catch her breath.
His grip on her back and wrists remained firm.
The space between them was barely anything.
"Think a hundred times before saying no to me again."
Brushing a stray lock behind her ear, he spoke in a low voice.
His blue eyes were unreadable.
"You have fifteen minutes. Fix yourself and come down to the parking lot."
Leaving her with that order, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and walked out of the office.
John often used smoking as a way to control his anger.
After stepping outside, he called the head of his wardrobe team and instructed her to prepare Emma's outfit.
Leaning against the car, he waited.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, she stood before him.
And he forgot to breathe.
A sleeveless blue top paired with a long white skirt that reached her ankles.
Her hair, which was usually tied up, now cascaded freely.
Her eyes were puffy from crying, her cheeks were red, and her lips—though injured—were concealed with lipstick.
She looked breathtaking.
A possessive feeling surged inside him.
He wanted to hide her from the world.
No one else should see her.
No one else should touch her.
Even the breeze playing with her hair felt like an intrusion.
Tearing his gaze away with difficulty, he gestured for her to get in the car.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine.
He tried his best not to look at her, but his heart kept urging him to steal glances.
What was this feeling?
Why did he get angry when someone else touched her?
Why did the world seem joyful when she laughed?
Why did everything feel dull and empty when she was sad?
And why had he lost his mind when he saw her close to Han?
The answers his heart was giving…
His mind refused to accept.
John didn't make the mistake of looking at her again.
The car sped towards its destination.
---
Everything was set for the shoot.
A company van was parked nearby, and the crew was adjusting their cameras.
The place wasn't too crowded, making it the perfect location for the ad.
Olivia was wearing a white viscount top paired with short shorts.
Derrick, however, hadn't changed yet—he was too busy devouring the snacks in front of him.
Seizing the moment, Olivia discreetly handed a small wooden box and some cash to a passing worker, whispering instructions.
The guy looked surprised but accepted the money, his confusion fading instantly.
After all, getting paid was all that mattered to him.
"Now you'll learn, Derrick. You underestimated Olivia."
Clapping her hands together, Olivia smirked as she glanced at Derrick.
A mischievous glint shone in her eyes.
Just imagining his reaction made her giggle.
Grabbing a pack of chips from the table, she tore it open and ate two before—
"Hey, give me some too."
Derrick appeared out of nowhere like an uninvited storm.
"No."
A flat rejection.
"Come on… just five pieces."
His eyes were glued to the pack, his urge to snatch it and run evident.
"Let me think… No."
Olivia pretended to consider before denying him again.
Derrick's hopeful expression fell—something that pleased her immensely.
"Okay… just three then… I'm really hungry."
(After eating so much, you're still hungry? Seriously?)
She shot him a glare—another silent rejection.
"Fine… just one piece?"
His pleading eyes and pitiful expression melted her resolve.
With a sigh, she pulled out a single chip and handed it to him.
Derrick's face lit up as he took it.✅
"Give me that chocolate… then I'll let you go…"
Han knew all too well about Emma's craziness when it came to chocolate.
"Han, please…" Emma made an innocent face, trying to save her chocolate somehow.
"Nope." Han extended his free hand toward her.
Emma didn't realize it, but Han was distracting her. The fear she had felt just moments ago had now faded.
With a pout, she pulled out the remaining chocolate from her bag and handed it to him.
As soon as he took the chocolate, Han let go of her hand.
"Han, do you know you're really mean?" Emma said after stepping out of the car.
"Oh? I'm your friend… I have to be mean." Han replied while locking the car behind him.
Emma stomped away angrily.
"If not you… then at least your chocolate will do…"
Han took a small bite of the chocolate with a smile.
He didn't even like chocolate. But ever since he had started taking it from Emma like this, it had become the most delicious thing in the world to him.
"What's going to become of you, Han…" Running a hand through his hair, he sighed at himself and walked toward the VIP elevator.
---
Emma was feeling relaxed today. She knew she was late, but the decision to resign had made her feel light and unburdened.
When she arrived at John's office, she found it empty, which was unusual.
She quickly made coffee and followed John's instructions for work.
Once she was done, she checked the time—John still hadn't arrived.
Stepping out of his office, she went to her cabin, which she had received after becoming his secretary.
Her cabin was right next to John's office, separated only by a glass wall, which allowed her to see when he arrived or left.
"I should write my resignation letter…"
She had just started typing when the intercom buzzed.
"Come inside. Right now."
Looking at the glass wall, she saw John sitting in his chair, staring directly at her.
Seeing him, Han's words flashed in her mind, and fear crept back in.
Her eyes fell on the resignation letter in front of her, more than half-written. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and stepped into his office.
"Get ready. Today is Derrick and Olivia's shoot… at the beach. You're coming with me."
John's voice was cold as he studied her fearful face.
For the first time, he had addressed her informally, but Emma was too overwhelmed to notice.
(The smart thing to do would be to refuse, Emma. Your life is precious…)
Following her brain's advice, she spoke, though her voice was hesitant.
"S…Sir…"
John, rummaging through his drawer, barely spared her a glance.
"You're still here? What did I just say?" He snapped, his tone insulting.
"Sir… I can't go with you…"
Hearing her refusal, John completely lost it.
With a sharp jerk, he stood up and hurled a paperweight at the wall.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the office.
Emma shut her eyes in fear, thinking he had thrown it at her.
When she felt a strong grip on her wrist, she opened her eyes—only to find herself trapped in John's embrace.
She hadn't even processed the shock yet when his next action left her completely frozen.
Her breath hitched.
She struggled to free herself, but John seized both her hands in his grasp, making her efforts useless.
A burning sensation spread over her lips.
What was in his touch…?
Rage.
Obsession.
And perhaps… hatred, too.
Tears welled up in her eyes from helplessness.
Han was right.
He was completely right.
A few moments later, John stepped back, his sharp gaze scanning her face.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and she was struggling to catch her breath.
His grip on her back and wrists remained firm.
The space between them was barely anything.
"Think a hundred times before saying no to me again."
Brushing a stray lock behind her ear, he spoke in a low voice.
His blue eyes were unreadable.
"You have fifteen minutes. Fix yourself and come down to the parking lot."
Leaving her with that order, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and walked out of the office.
John often used smoking as a way to control his anger.
After stepping outside, he called the head of his wardrobe team and instructed her to prepare Emma's outfit.
Leaning against the car, he waited.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, she stood before him.
And he forgot to breathe.
A sleeveless blue top paired with a long white skirt that reached her ankles.
Her hair, which was usually tied up, now cascaded freely.
Her eyes were puffy from crying, her cheeks were red, and her lips—though injured—were concealed with lipstick.
She looked breathtaking.
A possessive feeling surged inside him.
He wanted to hide her from the world.
No one else should see her.
No one else should touch her.
Even the breeze playing with her hair felt like an intrusion.
Tearing his gaze away with difficulty, he gestured for her to get in the car.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine.
He tried his best not to look at her, but his heart kept urging him to steal glances.
What was this feeling?
Why did he get angry when someone else touched her?
Why did the world seem joyful when she laughed?
Why did everything feel dull and empty when she was sad?
And why had he lost his mind when he saw her close to Han?
The answers his heart was giving…
His mind refused to accept.
John didn't make the mistake of looking at her again.
The car sped towards its destination.
---
Everything was set for the shoot.
A company van was parked nearby, and the crew was adjusting their cameras.
The place wasn't too crowded, making it the perfect location for the ad.
Olivia was wearing a white viscount top paired with short shorts.
Derrick, however, hadn't changed yet—he was too busy devouring the snacks in front of him.
Seizing the moment, Olivia discreetly handed a small wooden box and some cash to a passing worker, whispering instructions.
The guy looked surprised but accepted the money, his confusion fading instantly.
After all, getting paid was all that mattered to him.
"Now you'll learn, Derrick. You underestimated Olivia."
Clapping her hands together, Olivia smirked as she glanced at Derrick.
A mischievous glint shone in her eyes.
Just imagining his reaction made her giggle.
Grabbing a pack of chips from the table, she tore it open and ate two before—
"Hey, give me some too."
Derrick appeared out of nowhere like an uninvited storm.
"No."
A flat rejection.
"Come on… just five pieces."
His eyes were glued to the pack, his urge to snatch it and run evident.
"Let me think… No."
Olivia pretended to consider before denying him again.
Derrick's hopeful expression fell—something that pleased her immensely.
"Okay… just three then… I'm really hungry."
(After eating so much, you're still hungry? Seriously?)
She shot him a glare—another silent rejection.
"Fine… just one piece?"
His pleading eyes and pitiful expression melted her resolve.
With a sigh, she pulled out a single chip and handed it to him.
Derrick's face lit up as he happily took the piece from her... and licked it with great satisfaction.
Olivia felt disgusted by his behavior, so she quickly averted her gaze.
Just as she was about to take another piece, Derrick snatched the chips packet from her hand. He then placed the half-eaten chip he had licked back into the packet, shook it well to mix everything, and handed it back to her with an innocent expression.
"Here you go..." He offered with fake politeness.
"Yuck!" Olivia recoiled in disgust.
"Oh, come on! This is how love grows," Derrick insisted with a teasing smile.
"You eat it yourself! I'm not dying by eating your leftovers." Olivia's face twisted in revulsion.
She had barely finished her sentence when, within five minutes, Derrick polished off the entire packet with great enjoyment.
"Mmm... that was delicious! Do you have anything else?" He was now rummaging through her belongings.
"Back off!" Olivia snapped, pushing him away.
"I'm not even on top of you," he retorted, pretending to be offended.
"Ugh! Where did you even come from?" Olivia asked in frustration.
"I was right behind you. Now, you tell me—where did you bring me?" Derrick always had an answer ready.
Olivia decided to stay quiet; it was pointless arguing with someone who had a response to everything.
"I'm going to change. John will be here in five minutes." She checked her phone after hearing a notification.
Olivia didn't respond but couldn't hide the small smile that crept onto her lips.
"Why are you so happy?" Derrick narrowed his eyes.
"My wish." She simply shrugged.
Derrick eyed her suspiciously before walking away.
A little while later, John arrived with Emma.
Derrick had changed into white trousers and a white T-shirt. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt something crawling on his back. He reached behind, feeling a small bump against his skin.
Then, he felt something move along his waist and legs. Panicked, he tried to grab whatever it was, but instead of coming off, it climbed up to his chest. He could feel tiny claws scratching him.
He started jumping around, trying to shake off the unknown creature.
The people around him burst into laughter at his bizarre movements—he looked like a monkey performing in a circus. Olivia was laughing so hard that tears came to her eyes.
"What the hell is this now?" John grabbed Derrick's arm, stopping him from jumping.
"There's something in my clothes!" Derrick complained.
"Go change into another outfit," John ordered, shoving him toward the van and shutting the door behind him.
Then, John scanned the staff with a cold glare—his silent command for everyone to get back to work.
Just as he was about to leave, a scene caught his attention, making his blood boil.
Emma was talking to a man, smiling sweetly. A floral crown now adorned her head.
"Your daughter is so cute," Emma said warmly. A little girl had gifted her the flower crown a moment ago.
"Yes, she takes after her mother," the man replied, casting a loving glance at his daughter, who was playing in the dirt.
"Is she here with you?" Emma asked.
The man's face showed a faint, sorrowful smile. "She passed away when Noor was born."
"I'm so sorry," Emma said, genuinely feeling for him.
"Can I ask you something?" she hesitated.
"Of course," the man replied kindly.
"Are you Muslim?" Emma asked curiously.
A small smile spread across his lips. "Yes, Alhamdulillah. I even run an Islamic center from my home. If you'd like to visit, here's the address on my card."
His face carried a radiant warmth—the same glow Emma often saw on Hoor's face.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the card. It had Ibrahim written on it.
"By the way, your name is beautiful," Emma barely finished her sentence when someone grabbed her arm harshly and pulled her away.
When she turned to look, it was John.
His face clearly showed he was furious.
(What did I do wrong now?) Emma thought anxiously.
"You're not moving from here. And you're not talking to anyone but me," John ordered in a firm tone.
Emma quickly nodded.
John walked away and handed the camera to the photographer. He had no desire to take pictures today—something he usually did himself.
"This was your doing, wasn't it?" Derrick, now dressed in brown trousers and a white shirt, accused Olivia while posing for the shoot.
Her laughter was all the confirmation he needed.
"It wasn't me—it must've been your little soldier rat, coming to find his commander," Olivia teased, laughing again.
In the next pose, Derrick had to lift Olivia and twirl her in the air.
He did just that—but at the last moment, he deliberately loosened his grip on her waist, causing her to fall.
"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Olivia quickly reassured everyone rushing toward her.
"It meant—don't fly too high, or you'll come crashing down," Derrick smirked, moving on to the next pose.
In this pose, Olivia had to wrap her arms around Derrick's neck while he placed his hands on her waist.
As she did so, she made sure to dig her long nails into his skin.
"Oof!" Derrick barely held in his pain.
"It means—don't take me too lightly," Olivia whispered into his ear.
Before the next pose, Derrick "accidentally" stepped on her delicate foot with his heavy sneakers.
"This means—an ant shouldn't challenge an elephant unless it's ready to be crushed," he said, smirking.
No one else had any idea about the silent war happening between them—except for one person.
John shook his head as if saying, There's no saving these two.
—
To be continued…