Betrayal To Bliss

End of the evils with a blessing

Ceyda swirled the golden liquid in her glass, trying to control the rising tide of rage within her. Fabri scooted closer, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that made her skin crawl. With a forced smile, she held her ground, refusing to show the turmoil that threatened to consume her.

"You know, Ceyda," Fabri purred, his fingers brushing against her chin, tilting her face towards his. "You're incredibly talented. It's better that you've realized it and come to us at the right time."

Ceyda's heart pounded in her chest, but she summoned every ounce of her willpower to gently push away his intrusive hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Fabri," she said, her voice betraying none of the fury that raged within. "And I do admire your skills, especially in competing against my brother."

Fabri leaned in closer, his breath tickling her cheek. "Don't worry, my dear," he whispered. "I'll make sure to take you to the very top. You'll be the star of the show, and I'll be by your side every step of the way."

Meanwhile, in the other room, Aiyleen was slumped on the bed, her senses dulled by the drug that Emre had slipped into her drink. Emre loomed over her, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

"Aiyleen," he murmured, as he pulled her into a rough embrace. "I've missed this – the way you used to let me have my way with you. It's time to relive those old days."

Aiyleen's eyes glazed over, and she pulled Emre closer, her voice laced with a desperate longing. "Rip off my clothes, Emre," she whispered. "Just like you used to. I've missed it so much."

Aiyleen laid sprawled on the bed, her makeup smudged and her dress partially unbuttoned. The wine had gone straight to her head, and the drug she had taken earlier was making everything feel hazy and dream-like.

"Emre..." she slurred, her voice dripping with longing. "I miss the way you used to screw me. Like a real man. None of these other guys compare to you."

Emre looked down at her with a mixture of disgust and pity. He wanted to punch that smug look right off her face, but he held himself back. Instead, he asked sweetly, "Aiyleen, darling, how many guys have you slept with to get all these contracts, hm?"

Aiyleen giggled, her eyes glazed over. "One, two, three... I lost count," she admitted with a shrug.

Emre let out a low growl. "You're nothing but a bitch, you know that?" he muttered. Then, in a sickly sweet tone, he asked, "Did you have anything to do with the situation Jan and Sanen are going through? Did you do something with her perfumes?"

Aiyleen snickered and slowly began unbuttoning Emre's shirt. "It wasn't me, silly," she purred. "It was Fabri. He hired those people to spread a lie."

Emre grabbed her face, his fingers digging into her skin as the drug began to take its toll on her. "What did Fabri do?" he demanded.

Aiyleen's eyes fluttered, her words slurring together. "He... he wanted to get back at them. For... for something. I don't know. Doesn't matter. All that matters is you and me, Emre. Just like old times."

Emre's grip tightened, and he felt a surge of anger coursing through him. Whatever Fabri had done, it was clear that Aiyleen was involved. And he was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what it took.

Emre felt a wave of disgust wash over him as Aiyleen pulled him into a sloppy, stinking kiss. He barely managed to suppress the urge to vomit, quickly wiping his mouth in an attempt to rid himself of the foul taste.

Aiyleen, clearly intoxicated, snorted and as he asked, "What did Fabri do to get back at Jan?" Emre, still reeling from the unpleasant encounter, nodded hesitantly, indicating his willingness to do anything for her.