After defusing the tense standoff between Efsun and Efsane, Emrah slipped past the bodyguards and into his car. The engine purred to life quietly, and he navigated through the city streets without attracting any attention.
By the time he arrived home, the house was calm, almost eerily so. He moved through it with practiced stealth, entering his room without a single soul noticing.
Once inside, he set his cane aside and allowed himself a moment to breathe. Then, with the meeting with the rival families looming, he began his preparations—gathering notes, reviewing strategies, and ensuring every detail was accounted for. The quiet of his room contrasted sharply with the chaos outside, but Emrah knew the storm was only just beginning.
His family was already stirring with whispers by the time Emrah shut himself inside his room. News traveled fast—too fast—in the world of rival families. Word had spread that the Haznedar and Saygın patriarchs wanted a meeting, and the Aybeyli household had reacted exactly as expected.
Leyla pacing the hallway.
Aslan making calls.
Emir Aybeyli demanding reports from every contact he had.
They were all preparing for a meeting they assumed they were arranging.
None of them knew that their eldest son—the one they still believed was fragile and sick—was the one orchestrating the entire thing from behind the curtain.
Emrah slipped his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts. He called a few trusted friends—men who owed him favors, men who understood discretion. They talked fast, suggesting location after location, each one safer and more strategic than the last.
A secluded villa.
A private club.
A neutral conference hall.
But none felt right.
Then someone mentioned it—a restaurant tucked at the edge of the forest, elegant but isolated, with a breathtaking jungle view. Serene. Neutral. Impossible to attack without being seen from miles away.
Perfect.
Emrah's eyes sharpened as he pulled up pictures of the place. Green stretching endlessly behind glass walls. Quiet. Controlled. His kind of battlefield.
"This is the one," he said simply.
He ended the call, leaned back in his chair, and exhaled.
The fathers were preparing for a negotiation.
His family was preparing for a confrontation.
But Emrah…
Emrah was preparing for something far more dangerous:
peace.
The house shifted into a quiet storm.
Emrah had barely closed his room door when voices rose downstairs—sharp, urgent, layered with concern. He stayed silent, listening through the wood as he set his phone aside.
Footsteps.
A chair scraped.
Then his father's voice, firm and commanding as always.
"Everyone downstairs. Now."
Emrah didn't move. He didn't need to. He knew exactly what Emir Aybeyli was about to say.
Down in the living room, the entire family gathered—Leyla wringing her hands, Aslan pacing, Sahra sitting straight-backed, Yusuf standing protectively behind her. Two uncles had already arrived, breathless from rushing over.
Emir stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, jaw set like stone.
"We received messages from both the Haznedar and Saygın families," he began. "They want a meeting. A formal one."
Leyla gasped. "After what happened to their daughters… Of course they want to talk. They must feel embarrassed—grateful—angry—"
"Or all of the above," Aslan muttered.
Emir ignored the interruptions. His eyes were cold, calculating.
"We don't know their intentions yet," he continued. "We must assume it could be anything. An alliance. A trap. A demand. We prepare for all outcomes."
Sahra leaned forward. "Where will the meeting be?"
Emir hesitated. "They haven't proposed a place yet. They said they were still discussing it."
"Strange," Yusuf murmured. "Most families insist on choosing the location themselves."
Emir frowned. "Yes… it is unusual."
Upstairs, Emrah quietly placed his red phone on the desk—its screen still showing the reservation confirmation for a jungle-view restaurant his family didn't know existed.
Emir's voice grew firmer.
"We should find a location ourselves before they do. Something neutral. Something safe."
Aslan nodded. "I'll start checking our properties. We can sub—"
His phone buzzed.
Everyone looked at him.
Aslan checked the message… and froze.
Before anyone could ask, he lifted his head with disbelief tightening his expression.
"Father… they sent a location."
"What?" Emir stepped forward. "Already?"
Aslan handed him the phone.
Emir read the message. A slow frown formed. "A restaurant near the forest… with a jungle view?"
Leyla blinked. "That sounds… peaceful."
"Or extremely calculated," Yusuf said.
Sahra whispered, "Who would choose that?"
No one knew.
Upstairs, Emrah sat back in his chair, cane resting beside him, expression unreadable.
Everything was falling into place.
His father's voice boomed through the house again.
"Prepare yourselves. The meeting location is set."
A pause.
"And whoever chose this place… knows exactly what they're doing."
Emrah allowed himself the faintest smile in the quiet of his room.
He knew.
A knock echoed against Emrah's door.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Measured — the kind of knock Emir Aybeyli used only with the people he loved.
Emrah straightened in his chair, quickly slipping the reservation confirmation under a stack of old notebooks. He grabbed his cane, placed it beside him, and forced a sluggishness into his limbs.
"Come in," he said, voice carefully tired.
The door opened.
Emir stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. Up close, he looked older than usual — lines deeper, shoulders heavier. The weight of leadership… and the fear of almost losing family.
His eyes went straight to Emrah.
"You didn't come downstairs," he said.
"I was resting," Emrah replied. "Long day."
Emir nodded slowly, studying him. "You've been… distant since the attack."
Emrah lowered his gaze. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Everything."
That answer satisfied most people. But not Emir Aybeyli. He walked closer and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms.
"You scared me yesterday," he said quietly.
Emrah blinked, genuinely surprised. Emir never confessed fear. Not to anyone.
"I thought something happened to you in that restaurant. When we heard the news of the attack…" He exhaled through his nose. "I can't lose you, Emrah. Not you."
A warmth rose in Emrah's chest — guilt and affection tangled together.
"I'm still here, Baba," he said softly.
"For how long?" Emir murmured. "You run off alone. You don't tell anyone where you go. Your condition—"
Emrah stiffened, instinctively.
"My condition," he repeated.
Emir's eyes softened with fatherly worry. "Your MS… You can't take risks. Not like this."
Emrah tightened his grip on the cane to maintain the illusion.
His legs felt fine. Perfect. Stronger than ever.
But no one could know.
"I'll be more careful," Emrah lied gently.
Emir nodded, relief flickering over his face. Then his tone shifted — deeper, wary.
"A meeting has been arranged," he said.
Emrah tilted his head. "Already?"
"Yes. The Haznedars and Saygins agreed on a place." Emir looked directly at his son. "A restaurant with a jungle view."
Emrah stayed perfectly still.
"They sent the location before we even suggested anything," Emir continued. "Almost as if someone chose it for them."
Emrah kept his voice calm. "Maybe they wanted neutral ground."
"Maybe." Emir's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe someone persuaded them."
A long silence hung between father and son.
Emir sighed. "Everything is changing, Emrah. Faster than I like. Faster than I can understand."
He reached out and squeezed Emrah's shoulder. "But whatever happens next… stay close. Promise me that."
Emrah met his father's gaze.
"I promise," he said.
Emir stood, walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle.
"One more thing."
Emrah's heartbeat slowed.
"You'll be coming with us to this meeting. Your presence has been… specifically requested."
Emrah kept his voice steady. "By who?"
"Both families." Emir gave a tight, unreadable smile. "Apparently… their daughters won't attend unless you are there."
He left before Emrah could reply.
The door clicked shut.
Alone again, Emrah exhaled.
They were already moving toward him.
And he wasn't sure yet whether that was fate… or the beginning of something far more dangerous.
Peace was the goal, but fate had other plans — and every choice Emrah made dragged him closer to the center of a war he no longer had the luxury to avoid.