It was 9 a.m., and Julia was ready to start the day. She had accidentally overheard a conversation between Adeline and Nephis and learned that Nephis would be going back to the United States tomorrow. Julia felt a surge of relief—not because she disliked Nephis, but because the girl's constant questions had become suffocating.
As Julia walked downstairs, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught her attention. She pressed her face to the window, and to her surprise, it was Khalil. He stepped out of the car with three other men, all bowing subtly in deference to him. Julia froze, stunned, her mind unable to form a coherent thought. The devil is back, she whispered to herself.
His stormy grey eyes were sharp and piercing, like a gale about to sweep everything away, dragging anyone who dared stand against him to the deepest ocean depths. Julia quickly sank onto a chair, pretending to read something on her phone, though her heart raced wildly.
Thirty seconds later, he was inside. His presence filled the room, demanding attention without a word. He looked directly at her, his gaze icy. "Well, well," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Someone has grown too comfortable in my house. You haven't even had a taste of torture yet. Don't ever think I will let you live happily. I'll make sure you feel every moment."
Julia swallowed hard, her stomach twisting. The warning in his voice was absolute, leaving no room for doubt: the storm had returned, and she was standing right in its path.