Zara locked herself in her room the moment she got upstairs.
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her face, willing herself not to cry.
But the tears came anyway.
Hot, angry, helpless tears.
Everything she thought she knew about this marriage—this family—was unraveling like thread in a storm. Her father was framed. Her husband was hiding the truth. And his father… was capable of anything.
She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
For the first time since the wedding, the weight of it all crashed onto her chest.
Was this her life now? A puppet in a powerful family's sick game?
---
Later that evening, she forced herself to calm down. She needed answers—not breakdowns.
She left her room quietly and walked toward the east wing of the mansion, where Rami had told her the family library was.
If there were any documents or history that could help her uncover the truth about the Alhassans, it would be there.
She stepped inside the massive library, the scent of old books and polished wood filling her nose. She had just begun scanning the shelves when she heard it:
A soft voice.
Feminine.
Familiar.
Zara froze and followed the sound, her footsteps silent.
Through a narrow hallway that led to the smaller study, she saw her.
Layla.
But this time, she wasn't alone.
She was speaking on the phone… and what she said chilled Zara to the bone.
"They still think I'm dead," Layla whispered. "Good. Keep it that way. If Ameer finds out, it'll ruin everything."
Zara's hand flew to her mouth.
She was Leena. Alive. Hiding. Lying.
Zara backed away before she could be seen, her heart slamming against her ribs.
She had proof now—but what did it mean?
Why would Ameer believe she was dead?
And why was Layla—or Leena—so desperate to keep it that way?
---
Zara ran down the hallway, tears of shock in her eyes.
But when she turned the corner, she collided—hard—into Ameer.
He caught her arms to steady her. "Zara?"
She stared at him, chest heaving.
"Is she alive?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Is Leena alive?"
Ameer blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard her," Zara said, her voice rising. "I saw her. She's here, in your house. And she's pretending to be someone else!"
Ameer's expression didn't change—but his hands fell from her arms.
"You're tired," he said coldly. "Go back to your room."
Zara stepped back, hurt flashing in her eyes. "You're lying to me again."
"No," he said. "I'm protecting you."
"From what?"
"From the truth you're not ready to hear."
Zara stared at him, her chest burning. "I married a stranger."
Ameer turned his back to her.
And whispered, just loud enough for her to hear:
"You married a man already broken by love."
---