Gereksiz İntikam

65

Abraham's pov

The file slipped from my hands.

Silence thundered in the room.

I looked down at the paperwork one last time. Deed. Registry. Title transfer.

Property gifted to Miss Shreya singhania on her 24th birthday by Mrs. Sunidhi abraham ahmad.

I stood still.

Eyes fixed on the papers scattered across my desk.

Sunidhi’s signature.

The property deed.

The seal of California State.

GIFTED.

To Shreya singhania.

On her 24th birthday.

The villa where my niece was held.

The place she disappeared from.

My wife’s name.

My wife’s signature.

My blood roared in my ears.

I had spent my entire life controlling empires. Governments bent their knees to me. Enemies vanished without a sound. I was the hand of God in Istanbul's shadows.

But I couldn’t see the devil dancing in my home.

Theodore had played me like a flute.

He knew exactly what strings to pull. And I— the master of war—had handed him the battlefield.

Through my wife. Through Shreya.

I turned slowly.

Sunidhi stood at the threshold, trembling.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Didn’t you?” My voice was low. Flat. The kind of calm that comes before everything burns. “You handed her a villa that became Taniya’s prison.”

“She begged me, Abraham. Shreya was turning 24. She said it was all she wanted. I—I didn’t know what. I never thought—”

“You never thought,” I said coldly. “You gave that girl land. And she gave my niece to a psychopath.”

Sunidhi covered her mouth, staggering. “I didn’t mean—”

“But you did it,” I snapped. “You wrote her name. And that’s all Theodore needed.”

I grabbed the edge of the desk, the veins in my arms bulging.

Taniya was taken to a home I unknowingly funded.

Lured into safety. Conditioned into obedience.

And all of it happened in a house under my name, signed by my wife.

A slow breath left me.

I looked at Taha, who stood near the door, silent.

“I’m done reacting,” I muttered. “Now I execute.”

---

Authors pov

Asset freeze orders filed quietly through his legal advisors, every account Shreya touched now monitored.

Background dig into every tenant, visitor, or delivery person at that villa—searching for any sign of Theodore’s old aliases or embedded staff.

Leads traced: a courier from Theodore’s last gallery exhibit, now in hiding; a doctor who visited “a private, pregnant client” under a fake name; a property scout who helped secure rural land under Shreya’s shell company.