Marrying the son of Asraf 2

🪻Sixty~ 5🪻

The room was silent, the only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. William sat hunched on the steel bench, his elbows on his knees, hands tightly clasped. The bright overhead light cast harsh shadows over his face, making the bags under his eyes stand out even more. The man who had once been confident, smirking his way through challenges, now looked hollow.

He'd been left alone, but it wasn't an act of mercy. It was a strategy. The silence was meant to get to him, and it was working. He leaned back, pressing his head against the cold concrete wall. The chill seemed to seep into his bones, the stillness almost suffocating. His mind raced, thoughts crashing over one another, relentless and loud.

They have the files. They searched the house. They know about the offshore account. Summayyah handed over evidence...

His lips twitched bitterly at the thought of her. Summayyah. The quiet girl he'd underestimated. The one he'd thought was weak. But she wasn't. She was precise, patient. Dangerous in the way storms are and slow to build but impossible to escape once they hit.

He stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth. His nerves were shot, and for the first time, he felt something he hadn't known in years, fear. Not the sharp, fleeting kind, but the deep, gnawing kind that sinks into your chest and stays there.

"They'll turn on you eventually," he muttered to himself. Maryam. The others. All those people who had sat at his table, shared his drinks, signed his dirty deals. They wouldn't come for him now. Not when he was no longer useful.

He rubbed his temple, trying to ease the headache that was building. Everything he'd built, the money, the lies, the fake identities was crumbling. All that arrogance he'd carried with him was gone, leaving only a bitter taste in his mouth.

He stopped in front of the mirror, the two-way glass he knew the police were watching him through. He stared at his reflection, trying to find the man he used to be, the one who was always in control, always had a plan, always knew what to say to get what he wanted.

But that man was gone.

In his place was a criminal who had been cornered by his own sins. His jaw clenched and his voice was low, barely audible. "I can't go down like this."

He stepped closer to the glass, his fists clenched. "I want to talk," he said, his voice shaking. Then, louder, more desperate, "I want to talk!"

He slammed his fist once on the glass, the sound sharp in the silence and a moment later, the door opened slowly. Inspector Salim and Inspector Joseph stepped inside, Salim's movements was calm and confident, his hands were behind his back.

William didn't waste a second. He blunts. "I'll give you names. Dates. Bank accounts. Everything," he said, his voice rough but steady.

Inspector Joseph raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond right away. "Why the change of heart?"

William met his gaze, the fire still in his eyes, though it was more desperate now. "Because I'm not going to jail for people who'll forget my name the moment I'm out of the picture." He paused. "And because I know it's over."

Salim hummed and stepped forward, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Start talking," he said, and for the first time in his life, William did. Something he was running away from for years.

At exactly 9pm, Khalil horned at his father's gate, waiting for the gate man to opened and after a few minutes it was opened and he drives in and packed at the packing lot. Without wasting much time, he left and hurried into the house to be greeted by the house maid and Amal who was very excited to see her brother but as busy as she is, she's always on her phone trying to scoop out customers.