Chapter 11

The silence after his departure was worse than his presence. It clung to her like a second skin, thick and suffocating, pressing against her ears until the faintest sound of her own breathing felt unbearable. Bilqish sat rigid in the dining chair, her hands limp in her lap, her untouched breakfast growing colder by the minute. She could not bring herself to move, as if the slightest shift might summon him back.

Her eyes lingered on the space where he had stood. It was empty now, but the echo of his voice still filled it. The words had been smooth, calm, so certain they left no space for doubt. Two days. He had handed her an ultimatum as if it were a gift, not a threat, as if marriage to him were the only path she should ever have considered.

Her body trembled at the memory, and she pressed her nails into her palms until the sting reminded her she was still here, still alive. But at what cost?

Ifra.

Her best friend’s name rang inside her skull like a warning bell. He had spoken it so casually, as if testing the edge of a blade. Ifra was the only person Bilqish had left in this world, the only person who had been her anchor through years of loneliness. Ifra, and the family who had raised her with kindness despite knowing Bilqish did not belong to them. He had mentioned them too, his words so sharp they cut deeper than anything she had ever endured.

If he knew so much, then he could do it. He could hurt them.

The thought was enough to make her stomach twist violently. She pushed the plate away, the smell of food suddenly making her nauseous.

Her mind darted from thought to thought, frantic, desperate to find a way out. Refuse him, and risk Ifra’s safety. Accept him, and bind herself to the very man who had stolen her freedom, her choices, her peace. Both roads stretched before her like traps, each one ending in fire.

Her breath shuddered out of her as she rose from the chair. The dining hall felt too large, too empty now that she was alone. The maids had scattered when he entered, their footsteps fading like frightened whispers. Not one of them had returned. The silence was complete, crushing, mocking her fear.

She walked back to her room with slow steps, her arms wrapped around herself as though she could hold her body together before it unraveled. The door clicked shut behind her, but the act brought little comfort. Locking it was pointless. She knew he held the keys to every lock in this house, the visible ones and the invisible ones.

She sank onto the edge of her bed, her head dropping into her hands. Her heart hammered as though it was trying to break out of her chest.

Two days.

Forty-eight hours to decide whether to sacrifice herself or risk the people she loved most. The weight of it was unbearable, pressing down until her lungs burned.

Her thoughts spiraled. What would happen if she said yes? She tried to picture it, but the image was blurred and suffocating. She saw herself in a white dress, sitting beside him, his hand firm on her arm like a shackle disguised as affection. She saw papers being signed, her name inked beside his, her freedom vanishing in a single stroke of pen. She saw herself living in this house forever, the walls of her prison becoming the walls of her marriage.

A bitter laugh tore from her throat before she could stop it. Marriage. To her captor. To the man whose eyes had frozen her in place, whose voice had stripped her of choice, whose hands had been stained with blood the first time she ever laid eyes on him.

Her skin crawled at the thought. She could never give herself to him willingly. Not in this life.

But what if she refused?

Her chest tightened again, the air thinning. She pictured Ifra, smiling the way she always did, her presence bright and warm. She pictured Ifra’s foster parents, who had taken her in without complaint. Would they pay the price of her defiance? Would his men simply erase them from existence to teach her a lesson? The thought alone sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Her heart screamed to resist him, to never bend, but fear carved its way deeper and deeper until it silenced everything else.

She rose to her feet again, restless, unable to sit still. She paced the length of her room, each turn sharper than the last. Her eyes flicked to the windows, barred and guarded. To the door, locked and watched. To the ceiling, as if the very walls could hear her thoughts.

Escape. The word hovered in her mind, glowing faintly like a fragile flame. Could she escape before two days were over? Could she outwit him, slip past the guards, run until her lungs burst, and find her way back to freedom?

The idea both thrilled and terrified her. But even as she imagined it, the cruel voice in her mind whispered the truth: he would find her. He always would. A man with his power, his reach, his resources would not let her go so easily. And if he could not catch her, he would go after those she loved instead.

The walls of her room seemed to close in tighter, shrinking with each step she took. She pressed her back against the cool plaster, closing her eyes. The memory of his voice returned, low and calm, as if he were still in the room with her. He had not needed to shout or raise a hand. The threat had been hidden in his promises, subtle but unshakable.

She slid down the wall until she was curled on the floor, her knees pressed to her chest. Tears burned her eyes, but she bit them back, refusing to let them fall. Crying would not save her. Nothing would.

For the first time since her captivity began, Bilqish felt truly cornered. Not by locks, not by guards, not even by him. But by the choice he had forced upon her.

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in unsteady rhythm. Two days. That was all the time she had to decide if she was willing to chain herself to the man she hated most, or risk losing everything and everyone else.

Her fingers curled into fists. No matter what she chose, she would lose. The only question was how much.

The clock in the hall struck, its chime muffled through the walls. The sound made her flinch, each note reminding her that time was slipping through her fingers.

Bilqish closed her eyes, willing her racing thoughts to stop, but they only grew louder, sharper, crueler. They twisted into questions she could not answer. Would Ifra forgive her if she said yes? Would Ifra survive if she said no? Would she ever see the outside world again, no matter what she chose?

Her head dropped forward as a quiet sob broke free. The sound filled the room, fragile and raw. She hated herself for it, but the truth was undeniable. She was trapped, and for the first time in her life, she could not see a way out.

The clock kept ticking, its sound filling the silence of her room. Bilqish curled tighter into herself, wishing she could stop time altogether, wishing she could wake up to find it was all just another nightmare. But she knew better. This was her reality, and the choice he had forced upon her was waiting like a predator in the shadows.

Far from her despair, in another wing of the villa, Ehtisham sat behind his massive oak desk. The office was dim except for the glow of the desk lamp, its circle of light falling across scattered files, a half-empty glass of whiskey, and the sharp gleam of a pistol set aside with casual ease. He had been working for hours, his pen moving in precise strokes, his gaze steady and unreadable.

The door burst open without a knock. Arham strode inside, his expression tight with frustration. If anyone else had dared to enter this way, they would not have lived long enough to explain themselves. But Arham was different. He was the only man who could speak to Ehtisham without fear, the one who had been by his side long enough to earn that privilege.

“Are you out of your mind?” Arham snapped, planting both hands on the desk. “You could have ended this weeks ago. Months, even. Instead, you are keeping her here. And now marriage? Why? What is this, Ehtisham?”

Ehtisham did not look up immediately. He finished signing the page in front of him, the pen scratching faintly against the paper. Only then did he lean back in his chair, his stormy grey eyes lifting to meet his friend’s.

“I know what I am doing,” he said calmly. His tone carried no explanation, no invitation for debate.

Arham’s jaw tightened. “You cannot keep her like this. She is not...” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “This is dangerous. For you. For all of us.”

Ehtisham’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile, though it held no warmth. “I do not need your approval. Only your loyalty.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of his words filling the space like smoke. Arham stared at him for a long moment, frustration warring with loyalty in his eyes. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he stepped back from the desk.

“You’re playing a game no one understands,” he muttered.

Ehtisham returned his gaze to the papers on his desk, his expression unreadable. “Good. Then I am the only one who can win it.”

And with that, he picked up his pen again, dismissing the matter as easily as one signs a name.