Mafia's Contracted Bride

Chapter 11

The door to Dawood’s office slammed shut behind him as he walked down the hallway, his mind still clouded by the argument with Ali and the rage that coursed through him. The waleema was hours away, but he didn’t care about formalities. He needed time to think, to figure out where everything had gone wrong. His closest friend had just walked out on him, and no amount of gunshots or smashed furniture would calm the storm inside him.

Outside the shooting room, several of his men stood around, their eyes filled with apprehension as they watched him emerge. They knew better than to approach him when he was in this state. The tension in the air was palpable; they could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

He passed the guards, barely registering their presence as they stood straighter at his approach. Their fear didn’t matter to him right now. His focus was elsewhere, on Yara, on her father, on the devastation that had come crashing into his life ever since she had become a part of it. He didn’t spare his men a single glance as he walked past them, his jaw clenched tight, the rage emanating from him like a dark cloud.

He needed air.

His thoughts were consumed by Ali’s words, echoing over and over in his head.

You’ve lost control.

Dawood growled under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. He’d never lost control before, his grip on everything was iron-clad. He was the head of the Haider family, the man who struck fear into the hearts of anyone who dared to oppose him. And now? Now he was supposed to believe that it was all slipping through his fingers because of one woman?

It couldn’t be true.

But deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, Dawood knew that things had changed. Yara wasn’t just any woman. She had turned his world upside down. Marrying her had been a calculated move, a means to an end, a way to settle the score with her father. But what he hadn’t expected was the way she haunted his thoughts, the way her tears had made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to guilt.

No, Dawood thought fiercely. I did what I had to do.

Without even thinking, Dawood headed toward his bedroom, where the heavy curtains were drawn, shutting out the light of the morning. Ignoring the oppressive darkness, he walked straight to the balcony, yanking open the glass door with a force that made it shudder. He stepped outside, hoping that the cool morning air would temper the fire inside him, but it did little to calm him.

From the balcony, he could see the estate below coming alive with activity. His men were busy preparing for the waleema, the grand celebration that would showcase his marriage to Yara. The tents were already being set up, large and white, sprawling across the gardens like a stain against the lush green grass. Workers were bustling around, arranging tables and chairs, stringing up lights, and preparing the stage where he and Yara would sit as husband and wife.

His hands gripped the iron railing of the balcony until his knuckles turned white. The sight of it all made his stomach churn with bitterness. This entire marriage was a sham. A revenge plot gone wrong, a personal disaster. He had thought marrying Yara would bring some form of justice for what her father had done, but all it had done was tear his life apart even more.

Ali’s words from the previous night echoed in his mind: You’ve lost control of everything. You’re so blinded by your obsession with revenge that you can’t even see the damage you’re doing.

Dawood slammed his fist against the railing, the impact reverberating through his arm. His anger toward Yara flared. She was the cause of all of this. Because of her father’s betrayal, his life had been thrown into chaos. He had been consumed by the need for vengeance, and now, even his closest friend, Ali, was slipping through his fingers.