At the Aslan Group Private Lounge
Kareem Aslan swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl like molten gold. The private lounge was dimly lit, the glow of the city skyline casting long shadows against the floor-to-ceiling windows. He exhaled slowly, savoring the scent of expensive liquor and inevitable victory.
Across from him, Sara lounged with the easy arrogance of someone who believed she had finally destroyed the one person standing in her way. She crossed her legs, her silk dress slipping just enough to show flawless skin, her manicured nails tapping rhythmically against the rim of her wine glass.
"To Nadia Al-Fayed." Kareem raised his drink mockingly. "May she finally understand what it means to lose."
Sara smirked, lifting her own glass. "And may she stay down this time."
They clinked their glasses, the quiet sound filling the space between them.
Kareem leaned back, watching her over the rim of his glass. "You almost sound… personal about this.
Sara let out a short laugh. "And you don't?"
Kareem tilted his head, amused. "I have no use for emotions, Sara. This is business. Nadia's company is a failing asset. By the time we're through, the Al-Fayed name will be nothing but a memory."
Sara's lips curled. "And she'll finally know her place."
Kareem smirked, pulling her closer to him.
"Of course my love"
While back at the Al-Fayed Estate
The silence in the room was suffocating.
The marriage certificate sat between them on the dark wooden table, stark against the polished surface.
Nadia's fingers twitched in her lap.
Across from her, Zayn was watching her. But not just watching—studying, waiting, his gaze unreadable, but charged with something far more dangerous than amusement.
Possession.
"No one can know about this."
Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Zafir frowned, his expression unreadable. Isla—her mother—sat stiffly, her lips pressed into a thin line, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
"You're asking us to hide a marriage," Ayla whispered, her dark eyes flashing. "Do you hear how insane that sounds?"
Nadia turned to Zayn, ignoring her sister. "This is what i want"
Zayn didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers tapping slowly against the armrest.
And then, in a voice that sent a shiver down her spine, he said, "two months."
Nadia stilled.
Zayn's gaze darkened. "That's how long I'm giving you to clean up this mess, remember?"
Her heart pounded harder.
"If you succeed," he continued, his voice impossibly calm, "then the announcement will be celebratory. You will stand before the world as the woman who brought her enemies to their knees." His lips curled slightly. "And as my wife."
Nadia inhaled sharply.
"And if I fail?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.
Zayn tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Then I will step in."
The air stilled and there was a dangerous pause.
"You won't like how I handle things," he murmured, the words a quiet threat. "Because if I have to clean up your mess, Nadia…"
He leaned back, his voice smooth, almost lazy.
"... anyway i'll still announce the marriage."
The air in the room was suffocating.
Ayla slammed her hands on the table, standing so quickly her chair nearly toppled over. "You can't be serious—!"
"Ayla."
Her father's voice was calm but firm.
Ayla turned to him, eyes burning. "Baba, she's being forced into this—"
"Enough."
Zafir's voice carried the weight of a man who had spent decades making decisions that no one else dared to.
"She is not being forced," he said, his gaze sweeping over his family before settling on his youngest daughter. "She is being protected."
Zafir exhaled, his fingers interlocking on the table. "I know this is difficult for you to understand—"
"Difficult?" Isla's voice finally cut through the conversation, sharp and laced with something bitter. "Difficult is watching my daughter be backed into a corner like this!"
She turned to Zafir, her dark eyes flashing with something dangerously close to betrayal. "You promised me we would never do this to her. You promised—"
"This is different."
Isla let out a short laugh, but it held no humor. "Different? How?"
"Because she is not some helpless girl being sold off," Zafir said, his tone even but firm. "She is an Al-Fayed. And right now, she is being hunted."
Ayla's breath stilled.
Zafir turned back to Nadia. His gaze softened—just slightly. "Kareem and Sara are not playing fair. They want to destroy you, Nadia. And when men like Kareem want something, they do not stop until they have crushed every last obstacle in their path."
His voice dropped lower. "You have two options. Fight this battle alone… or stand with a man who has the power to shield you from every bullet aimed your way."
Nadia clenched her fists.
She had always known her father was a man who made calculated choices, but hearing it put so plainly still made her chest tighten.
Ayla shook her head, still refusing to accept it. "But it's marriage, Baba. Marriage. Not a business deal. Not a shield. It's—"
"It is war," Zafir cut in, his voice like steel. "And in war, you do what you must to survive."
Ayla swallowed hard, looking at her sister. "And what do you want, Nadia?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Do you want this?"
Nadia let out a slow breath, her heart pounding in her ears.
Want?
It didn't matter what she wanted.
What mattered was surviving.
What mattered was taking back everything that had been stolen from her.
She lifted her gaze to meet Zayn's.
"I'll take the two months," she said, voice steady. "And I will win."
Something flickered in Zayn's gaze—something dark, unreadable.
She turned to her parents, to Ayla. "But no one can know. Not until I've won."
Zafir studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
Ayla, however, looked away, jaw tight, but she didn't argue.
Zayn leaned back, a slow smirk curling at his lips.
"Then we have a deal, ya rouhi."
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
Two months.
Two months to throw Sara and Kareem off.
Two months to reclaim her empire.
Two months to ensure that when the world finally heard her name again.
It would be her victory.
Not his.