Word count: 550+ | Style: Suspense + Emotion + Cliffhanger
Zara stepped into the Alhassan mansion like a lamb entering a lion's den.
The high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and marble floors screamed luxury—but to her, it felt like a golden cage. She had grown up in comfort, but this was different. This place didn't feel like home. It felt like a trap.
"This is your room," Ameer said, opening a double door without looking at her. His voice was flat, emotionless. "You're free to decorate it however you like. As long as you remember one thing…"
He turned, his eyes cold as winter. "This is not a love story."
Zara stepped inside without a word. The room was stunning—soft cream walls, silk curtains, a velvet bedspread, and a large vanity—but she barely noticed.
All she could see were the invisible chains now wrapped around her neck.
Ameer turned to leave, but Zara's voice stopped him.
"Why me?" she asked softly.
He paused. "You want the truth?"
"Yes."
He looked over his shoulder. "Because your father stole from mine. Because he humiliated my family. And because making you my wife is the perfect way to remind him that I always win."
"But my father is innocent," she whispered.
Ameer's face darkened. "Then prove it."
The door closed behind him with a quiet thud.
---
Zara sat on the edge of the bed, numb. Her marriage was a weapon. Ameer hadn't chosen her for love… he had chosen her for revenge.
But two could play that game.
She wouldn't break. She wouldn't cry. She'd survive—and one day, she'd make him pay for every scar he left behind.
---
Later that night, she joined him at the dining table. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the clink of silverware.
"You look surprised," Ameer said without looking up. "Did you think I'd lock you in your room like a prisoner?"
"Why go through the trouble?" she muttered. "You've already caged me with your last name."
He smirked. "You're learning."
She gritted her teeth, choosing silence.
Just then, Ameer's phone buzzed. His expression changed. "Excuse me," he said sharply, standing. "I have a meeting."
Zara watched him leave. The moment he was gone, she stood up and rushed to the study. She had seen where he entered his passcode earlier—five digits. She remembered the pattern.
One chance.
Her fingers hovered over the keypad. 1-9-8-0-7.
The door clicked open.
Inside, files lined the shelves. A laptop sat open on the desk. Her eyes landed on one folder labeled "Ibrahim Case - Private".
Her heart pounded as she reached for it.
But a voice behind her stopped her cold.
"Well, well… looks like the pretty wife already wants to know secrets."
She turned—and froze.
It wasn't Ameer.
It was another man.
And he was smiling.