Ava's bare feet pressed against the cold marble of the guesthouse rooftop, her toes slightly curling from the chill. It was her first time up here. Unlike the mansion's rooftop garden, this one was barren. No plants. No aesthetics. No potted trees swaying in the breeze. Just the silent sky above her and a few dim lights placed carelessly at the edges. Beautiful in a strange way — like the man who owned it.
She held her phone close to her ear, "Are you staying with your roommates tonight?"
"Yeah." Farah's voice came through the line, "I was about to head back to the apartment, but then Elara called… I didn't know there's going to be a raid tonight. No idea how he found out so fast."
"Neither did I," Ava muttered. "And now I don't even know how to get information out of Ibrahim without him suspecting something. If I push too much, he'll feel it."
Farah's voice turned serious. "You won't know anything unless you figure out what he's doing right now. He's not going to hand you anything on his own, Ava."
"That's the problem," Ava said, glancing over her shoulder. The rooftop glass door was still slightly ajar. "He's too calm. I can't read him. His face, his voice, his body—it's all quiet. All under control. If something is happening tonight, he hasn't let a single thing slip. He hasn't made a call in front of me, hasn't checked a single message. No nervous pacing, no sudden glances at the clock. Just came home, straight to the gym. He's been in there for the past thirty minutes like it's just another evening."
Farah gave a low chuckle, "Ava... he's not sitting for a university entrance exam. You think he's going to look tense or pace around nervously? No. This isn't some last-minute job. They plan these things months in advance — two, maybe three months — sometimes even longer. It's a well-oiled system. Go to him. Keep him busy. Distract him — talk, flirt, whatever. But while you're doing that, try to get your hands on his phone or laptop. Or better—" she paused, "mirror his phone."
Ava blinked. "Mirror?"
"Yes. Like you mirror a phone to the TV, you can mirror someone's phone screen to yours. You'll see whatever they see. Messages, calls, videos, chats. Everything. In real time."
"I don't even know how to—"
"I'll walk you through it," Farah said quickly. "You just need a few minutes with his phone, unlocked. Go to his settings...."
The next few minutes were spent with Farah guiding Ava step-by-step. Ava followed silently, biting the inside of her cheek, nodding to herself as Farah laid out the plan.
Finally, before ending the call, Ava whispered, "I'll try… I'll do what I can."
The call ended. And a sudden chill swept through her that made her skin prickle. She wrapped her arms around herself. Mirroring Ibrahim's phone. Distracting him. Pretending everything was fine while digging into his secrets — in his house, under his roof… under his eyes.
Terrified.
That was the only word that pulsed through her blood.
Terrified of the thought — what if he finds out?
What would he do to her?
Lock her in a basement?
No… he'd go further.
Maybe he'd drag her onto a private island and leave her there, alone. Or worse… maybe he'd throw her into the ocean himself. She could already see the cold water swallowing her body whole, her lungs begging for air.
She had no idea which one was more terrifying — being punished by him… or being disappointed in his eyes before he decided what to do with her.
Swallowing her terror, Ava slipped down from the rooftop, taking the stairs to the ground floor. Her bare feet padded against the marble tiles until she reached the gym. The gym door was shut not locked, just closed because of the air conditioner. She pushed it open just a little and slipped in.
Ibrahim was there.
He was standing near the weight rack, shirtless, wearing only a grey joggers that hung low on his hips. His skin was slightly wet with sweat, his chest rising and falling as he lifted heavy dumbbells. Ava noticed the white AirPods in his ears — he was on a call.
She walked to the side and sat on a bench near the dumbbell rack. It was a simple leather seat. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, pretending to be lost in thought while her ears stayed wide open. It sounded like a conversation about a Christmas party. Ava guessed it must be Amir, cause she had received a text from Mia about it.
When the call ended, Ibrahim finally turned his head. He lowered the dumbbell onto the rack and pulled the AirPods from his ears. Then he picked up a towel and began wiping down his chest.
He walked toward her slowly...
"Do you exercise every day?" Ava asked.
"Almost," Ibrahim replied, smirking as he dropped the towel over his shoulder. "Can't afford to be slow in my line of work."
He sat on the floor in front of her with ease. His legs spread comfortably wide, elbows resting behind him as he leaned back. The towel hung around his neck now, sweat dripping slowly down his abs. He looked like sin molded into flesh. Effortless. Dangerous. Fuckable.
"Amir's inviting us for tomorrow."
So she guessed right.
Ava nodded slowly. "I'm not sure if I'll go," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Why?" he asked.
Ava paused. All she said was, "I'll think about it later."
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, screen black. She had switched it off before entering the gym.
"My phone's dead… I was going to call someone in mansion. I need a few things—nightwear, some of my art stuff… getting a little bored, honestly." She smiled faintly. "Can I use yours to call?"
"I already told Faisal. He'll be here soon with whatever you need. Well… almost. I didn't mention art supplies." Ibrahim pointed toward the far side of the room, where a small table sat with his phone resting on it, "My phone's there. Call whoever you want."
Ava started to rise from the bench, but before she could take a step, his hand wrapped around her ankle. The touch wasn't rough but the sheer power behind it made her pulse skip.
His gaze slid up to her face, "Since we came back here. You've been looking pale. If I remember correctly, ever since Elara called you earlier… you've been acting a little different."
Ava caught off guard. She looked down at him at his hand still circling her ankle like a shackle and forced her voice to sound light, "Different how?"
"Like you're carrying something in your head," He murmured. His eyes didn't blink, didn't soften. "Your eyes… they're not here. They're somewhere else. And you only look at me like that when you're hiding something."
she forced herself to swallow, to breathe evenly, but her nerves betrayed her — the tiny tremor in her fingers, the way her knees pressed together. His thumb pressed lightly into the bone of her ankle — not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that he could read her body as easily as a page.
"You're imagining things," she said.
"Am I?" His gaze dipped briefly to her mouth, lingering for the smallest fraction of a second, before locking back on her eyes. "Because I don't imagine very often. I watch. I notice. And right now…" A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "I notice you're about to lie to me."
"Why would I lie to you?" She spoke quickly, almost defensively.
Ibrahim's smirk widened into a quiet laugh. Then, without warning, he bent forward and brushed his lips lightly against the top of her foot.
"What… what are you doing?" she stammered. It was as if someone had sent high-voltage currents shooting through her veins. Her fingers curled into the edge of the bench. Every nerve lit up at once.
He released her ankle with ease, leaning back as if nothing had happened.
"Don't be so nervous I was joking. Go make your call. I'll take a shower, then we'll have dinner. Okay?"
Ibrahim pushed himself up from the floor, standing tall over her. For a second, he just watched her. Her head was down, her gaze fixed on the very spot his lips had touched.
Then he reached for a black t-shirt draped over the bench and slid it over his head and walked out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ava's lungs finally dragged in a deep breath. Her hands trembled faintly in her lap. She hadn't even done anything — yet he was already starting to doubt. Her hand went to her chest, pressing over her pounding heart, "Oh God… make a hole for me… I want to drown and never come back."
She glanced at the closed door once, then walked to the table and picked up his phone. Before anything else, she made the quick call to the mansion for things she didn't even need — just so Ibrahim wouldn't doubt her later. The call would sit neatly in his dial list if he ever checked.
Then she set to work on the real task. Within six minutes, the mirroring was done. She no longer needed his phone — now she could see everything from her own. A small wave of pride warmed her chest, but it faded fast when she opened his messaging app. There wasn't a single message from the last two days. Either he'd deleted them, or he truly hadn't texted anyone. She checked Samir's and Faisal's chats too, but there was nothing.
Ava thought for a moment. Who would be leading the shipment tonight? Usually, one of them was always present. She knew Ibrahim didn't personally check every shipment — it was either Faisal or Samir.
But Faisal was already on his way here with her things… which meant the one out of station had to be Samir. Yes — Samir.
She dialed his number. After two rings, he picked up, "Hello, sister-in-law. How are you? You didn't even call me for anything after coming back to KL."
"I–I'm good," Ava replied, "But… how did you know it's me? I didn't even say a word."
"I saved your new number the day you bought your new phone."
"Hmm… what else should I expect from a mafia's brother."
Samir chuckled on the other end, "Your husband wanted that. Do you know… when you were in Thailand, he used to call your name in his sleep? Some nights, when I'd pass by his room… he'd be asleep, calling your name. Not just once — over and over, like he thought you might answer if he said it enough. And during the day, he'd get this… faraway look. I caught him more than once sitting with your scarf in his hands, just staring at it. Smelling it. He'd scroll through your photos when he thought no one was watching. I saw him once — just sitting there, looking at your face for so long he forgot the coffee in his hand had gone cold. He couldn't focus on work. Faisal and I had to handle meetings because he'd be distracted, saying he'd get to it later. And later never came. Ava… for all his ways, that man missed you like hell."
A poke of pain jabbed at her heart, like a needle twisting inside. No matter how much she tried to hate him, a part of Ibrahim was lodged deep inside her heart, refusing to leave. She would never truly know how much he belonged there.
"He's not a good guy, Samir… Don't try to clear my mind about him. I'm already tolerating so many pains for his love — the kind of pain I never asked for. I'm just… accepting it now, and going on with it. Maybe… maybe one part of my heart will keep loving him until Judgment Day, and I have no explanation for it. I don't even know why I still feel this way for him. But whatever I thought I was… I'm not that girl anymore. I became just like any other… any normal, typical woman who loves, suffers, and stays, even when she once believed she'd never be that way."
Samir was about to say something, but Ava's voice cut in again, "He's your brother … I don't want to put any negative thoughts about him in your head. So… let's leave all that. I actually called to ask if you're free right now."
There was a pause. "Free? Is there something to do?"
"Yes," she replied quickly. "Every Christmas, I go to a local bakery and get a special cake. Then I have a small get-together with my friends. But today… I completely forgot about it. The owner won't open his shop tomorrow — he always goes home early on the 25th to celebrate with family. Can you bring it for me somehow tonight? If I don't have it, Farah will taunt me for breaking our tradition. And it's her favorite cake too. I don't want to ruin it and make my best friend sad."
Ava pressed her palm to her forehead, as if scolding herself for the ridiculous excuse she'd just thrown out. God, what would Samir think? In a city with a dozen food delivery apps at her fingertips, why would she ask him to buy a cake? It was so pathetic. But she couldn't think of anything better. Inside, she cursed herself.
Still, Samir didn't question her.
"Send me the address," he said. His voice carried the faint edge of distraction. "I'm a little busy right now, but I'll manage. Also don't forget to text me the flavour.)
"You'll have to hurry then—the bakery closes before midnight. Where are you now? You can't bring it sooner?"
"I'm in Rawang, handling some work. Might only get home at dawn, but your cake will be sorted."
That was all she needed—Rawang. Her smile deepened, "Of course. And… sorry if I disturbed you."
Only one task remained: tell Elara the location.
But before she could, Ibrahim's voice drifted from the dining hall, calling her name.
Her pulse jumped. Without thinking, she pressed the power button and watched her screen die.
By the time he appeared, leaning against the doorframe. He'd changed into a dark polo shirt. His hair was uncombed, messy from the towel, a few strands dripping at his temples, "Not hungry, baby girl?"
Ava stepped toward him, placing his phone in his hand, "I… I was about to come."
"When I'm here," Ibrahim said, his gaze dropping to her legs, "why would you suffer them?"
Before she could ask what he meant, his arms slid under her knees and behind her back, lifting her easily into a bridal carry.
"I can walk," Ava protested, gripping his shoulder. "What the heck is this?"
He smirked down at her, "Maybe I don't want you to walk. Maybe I've got something to show you… and I want you right where I can see you."
She stiffened in his arms as he carried her through the hallway, the warmth of his chest against her side impossible to ignore. The bedroom door was already half-open, and when he pushed it wider. Ava's eyes widened as she looked around.