Velvet Hours

THE COLD ASHES

VELVET HOURS

CHAPTER 11: THE COLD ASHES

“The dead don't stay buried when their secrets are written in blood.”

The waves of the ocean still crashed against the shore, but the darkness of the night no longer felt peaceful. Instead, it carried the heavy, suffocating weight of an approaching storm.

Haya stood by the bedroom window, her gaze fixed on the endless black sea. One hand rested instinctively over her gently round belly, where a new life was quietly growing. A few feet away, Zayyan was fast asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling softly. Yet, an unexplained restlessness clawed at Haya’s heart—an eerie anxiety she couldn’t quite put a name to.

The sudden sound of heavy footsteps behind her broke the silence. She turned around to see Jibraan walking into the room. He held his phone tightly in his grip, the color completely drained from his face.

"Jibraan?" Haya murmured, her brows furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jibraan let out a ragged breath, tossing his phone onto the bed before burying his face in his hands. When he finally looked up, his voice was hollow. "Zarar is dead."

Haya’s heart stopped for a fraction of a second. Zarar. The mere mention of the name that had given her years of horrific nightmares made her blood run cold. "He... he was in the hospice ward, right? It's finally over?"

"He's dead, yes," Jibraan said, his voice laced with gravity as he stepped closer and took both of her hands into his. "But he didn't go quietly. Before he took his last breath, he played one final, twisted card. I just got a call from his personal lawyer, Haya."

Jibraan squeezed her trembling hands, his eyes reflecting a dangerous mix of suspense and worry. "Zarar left a legally binding will. He has left a massive portion of his remaining estate, along with the key to a highly secure private bank locker in Dubai... entirely in your name."

"In my name?!" Haya’s face turned stark white. "Why?! I don't want anything to do with him! I don't want his money, his shadow, or anything that reminds me of the living hell he put me through!"

"It’s not just about the money or the property, Haya," Jibraan explained, his grip tightening protectively. "According to the lawyer, that private locker doesn't just hold wealth. It contains encrypted files, documents, and blackmail material on some of the most powerful, dangerous elites and businessmen in the city—the very people Zarar used to operate with. And now that he is gone, those people believe that you hold the keys to their destruction."

Haya turned her head slowly, looking at Zayyan’s crib with sheer terror in her eyes. Their peaceful island, their safe haven, was no longer hidden. The ashes of the past had just been kicked, and a deadly fire was rekindling.

Meanwhile – ReTaaj’s Hideout

In a cramped, dimly lit studio apartment on the edge of the city, ReTaaj sat on the edge of a unmade bed, watching a thin trail of cigarette smoke dissolve into the musty air. The heavy silence of the room was deafening, mirroring the profound loneliness that had become her daily reality. On the nightstand sat a half-empty bottle of cheap wine and her cracked phone.

Suddenly, the screen illuminated, buzzing violently against the wood. It was a message from an unlisted, anonymous number.

ReTaaj picked up the device with a sigh of utter boredom, but as her eyes scanned the text, her breath hitched. The cigarette slipped from her fingers, burning a tiny hole into the worn carpet below.

The message read:

"Zarar Bin Saleh’s chapter is officially closed. But he played everyone from his deathbed. He left everything to Haya. Including the private locker you ruined your entire life trying to find. What's your move now, ReTaaj?"

ReTaaj’s breathing turned shallow and rapid. The bitter despair on her face slowly morphed, twisting into a dark, vindictive smile that reached her cold eyes.

"Haya..." she hissed, the name tasting like venom on her tongue. "You took my Jibraan, you took my status, you took my dignity... but what belongs to Zarar belongs to me. I will never let you have it."

ReTaaj gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. She had absolutely nothing left to lose—and a woman with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous creature alive. The game wasn't over; the board had just been reset.

END OF CHAPTER 11