The Shahriar mansion had never felt this tense.
Ridwan stood in front of Afra, his shadow falling over her.
"You've seen this pattern before," he repeated.
"Where?"
Afra's heartbeat was steady, but her mind was racing.
If she told him the truth now — that her father's company was destroyed by the same financial structure used inside Shahriar Group — everything would collapse.
And she still didn't know if Ridwan was innocent.
"I can't say," she replied quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"You can't… or you won't?"
Afra stepped back slightly.
"Not yet."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Ridwan turned away.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Afra."
Her voice softened just a little.
"So are you."
The Invitation
The next morning, Ridwan informed her coldly:
"There's a corporate gala tonight. You'll attend with me."
Afra raised a brow.
"I thought I wasn't part of your world."
"You're my wife. Appearances matter."
Translation:
She was a symbol.
Nothing more.
"Fine," she agreed.
But she knew corporate galas were not just about champagne and cameras.
They were about alliances.
And enemies.
The Gala Night
The ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers. Influential businessmen, investors, media — everyone important was present.
The moment Ridwan and Afra entered together, whispers spread instantly.
"That's his wife?"
"She's beautiful…"
"She looks too calm."
Afra wore a black silk gown. Elegant. Powerful. Not soft.
Ridwan's hand rested lightly on her waist for appearance.
But the touch wasn't neutral.
It burned.
For a second, she felt it.
And so did he.
"Smile," he murmured under his breath.
"You too," she replied.
Sara's Move
Sara Malik approached them gracefully.
She wore red.
Bold. Possessive.
"Ridwan," she greeted warmly, almost too warmly.
"You didn't tell me your wife would be this stunning."
Afra noticed the way Sara stood slightly too close to him.
Professional boundaries blurred.
Ridwan remained composed.
"Business first, Sara."
But Sara's eyes flickered toward Afra.
"Of course."
Later that evening, Afra stepped onto the balcony for fresh air.
The city lights stretched endlessly below.
"You don't belong here."
The voice came from behind her.
Sara.
Afra didn't turn immediately.
"Interesting," she said calmly. "Because I'm legally the closest person to him."
Sara's smile faded.
"You think a ring makes you powerful?"
Afra finally faced her.
"No. Information does."
Sara's expression changed — just slightly.
And that tiny shift confirmed Afra's suspicion.
The Attack
Inside the ballroom, Ridwan was mid-conversation when suddenly—
The lights flickered.
Then went out.
Gasps filled the room.
Emergency alarms beeped.
Within seconds, chaos erupted.
Ridwan's first instinct?
Afra.
He moved through the darkness, ignoring security protocols.
"Afra!"
Meanwhile, on the balcony—
Afra heard footsteps behind her.
Not Sara this time.
Heavier. Male.
She turned—
A masked man grabbed her arm violently.
"Wrong place, wrong marriage," he growled.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"Let go."
He pushed her toward the balcony railing.
Fourteen floors above ground.
"This is your warning."
Before she could react—
A powerful grip pulled her back.
Ridwan.
His fist connected with the attacker's face hard enough to send him stumbling.
Security rushed in as backup generators restored dim lighting.
The masked man escaped in the chaos.
But the message was clear.
This wasn't random.
Aftermath
Back inside a private room, Ridwan's hands were still gripping Afra's shoulders.
"Are you hurt?"
For the first time, his voice wasn't cold.
It was angry.
Worried.
"I'm fine," she said quietly.
His grip tightened slightly.
"That wasn't an accident."
"I know."
His eyes darkened.
"Someone sent him."
Afra held his gaze.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then Ridwan asked the question he had avoided—
"Is this about why you married me?"
Silence.
Afra looked at him, really looked at him.
If she told him now, she would expose everything.
But if she stayed silent—
He might become her enemy.
Before she could answer—
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
He opened it.
And froze.
The message contained one sentence:
"Phase Two Begins. Choose your wife or your empire."
Ridwan slowly lifted his eyes toward Afra.
Because suddenly—
This was no longer just her mission.
It was war.