Chapter 136

She replayed the night in fragments, searching for a mistake, a word, a glance, anything that could have provoked this moment.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat heavy with anticipation and fear. Anticipation was worse than the event itself; at least the event had an end. She hated how small she felt under his gaze, how her body reacted before her mind could reason.

With those deadly green eyes, staring in her soul, his words rolled off in the silent air, “your father used to call your brother Hayder.” The name landed in the room like a stone dropped into still water. His voice was calm, almost detached, yet it sent a sharp chill through her. It was more of a statement than a question but she still nodded. The memory came rushing back without mercy. She remembered it clearly, back at her home, the way her father’s voice softened whenever he used that name. That name had always carried weight, a secret pressed between the syllables. He had allowed only his fat