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Flashback: 2 Months Ago
A lawyer handed Alihan a document. "This is your mother's will. You are required to fulfill it."
Will:Alihan Erdoğan, son of Altan Erdoğan, you must marry a Turkish girl before turning 27. Failure to do so will result in the loss of all authority over Erdoğan Enterprises and Kıvanç Corporation. After marriage, you must live in the Erdoğan family heritage house for at least three months.
Note: Alihan, my son, Mama really loves you and believes me, this is for your good. Please don't break this will for Mama.
Flashback end
In the abyss of a basement so dark it swallows light itself, a pure soul is bound to a chair, her form barely visible against the oppressive blackness. The air is thick with a suffocating darkness that seems almost sentient, eager to consume every trace of innocence.
Her face, a ghostly shade of pale, shows the toll of her ordeal. Pink lips, once vibrant, have faded to a ghostly white. Her eyes, dull and unseeing, struggle to pierce through the overwhelming gloom. This is the domain of the monster, Alihan Erdogan, where he revels in his cruelty, using the basement as his stage for torment.
Surrounding her are men in black suits, their faces concealed in the shadows, their intentions clear. They administer injections of harsh chemicals, seeking to strip her of her senses and force her into revealing what she desperately wishes to hide.
Alihan, his expression an icy mask of indifference, looms over her. His eyes, devoid of warmth, settle on Azra's anguished form. "Where is she?" he asks, his voice a cold, unfeeling whisper that echoes through the darkness.
Sofia, barely able to lift her head, croaks out a faint, broken reply, "I... don't... know..." Her voice is barely a murmur, worn thin by exhaustion.
To Alihan, she is an open book. Her green eyes, once a window to her soul, now betray her in their vulnerability. He loathes them for their honesty, for the way they lay bare her deceit.
"Make her talk," Alihan commands with a chilling calm, his gaze fixed on her. The guards, trained in methods of unrelenting pressure, move with practiced precision, knowing exactly how to break her spirit. The darkness of the basement seems to deepen, reflecting the cruelty of their methods as they continue their relentless quest for truth.
__________________
Sofia's head lolled against her chest, her breaths ragged and uneven. The cold metal of the chains bit into her wrists, leaving angry red marks. Her mind was a foggy swirl of confusion and fear, the chemical injection rendering her barely coherent. Words tumbled from her lips in a nonsensical stream, desperate and disjointed.
