Chapter 185

One millimeter—the width of a fingernail—had separated her from death. Just one millimeter to the left and she and her child would not have survived. She shivered at the thought. It had taken almost three days for her to regain consciousness, and her body, unaccustomed to the trauma and the excruciating pain of a bullet wound, still relied on heavy painkillers to function. Without them, even breathing was a battle. Without them, even standing would have been impossible.

“Good evening, ma’am. I am Soraya. May I ask who you are looking for?” the maid finally said with a gentle smile, her voice melodic, tinged with the lilting cadence of Persian. Her accent placed her from the northern provinces. Roshanay understood immediately that she was still in Iran, as the subtle differences in pronunciation, the accents in speech, and even the cooling evening air spoke to her instincts. She could feel the faint chill settling on her skin and recognize the distinct scent of the homeland she