The new apartment was perfect. It was sun-drenched, modern, and located in the heart of the city, far away from the oppressive shadows of the Al-Siyufi estate. Layla sat on her new velvet sofa, the legal papers Adam had given her resting on the coffee table. She was free. No more contracts, no more guards, no more secrets.
But the silence was deafening.
Every time the floorboards creaked, she expected to see Adam’s towering silhouette. Every time the wind whistled through the balcony doors, she heard the echo of his broken voice in the hospital. She was free, but her heart was still a prisoner in a room she had fought to leave.
A sharp knock at the door startled her. Her breath hitched. Could it be him? Had he changed his mind?
She opened the door, her heart hammering against her ribs
