Lilith signed her name as the teammates chatted with her. She nodded as they shared ideas.
Her team was called The Invictus, made up of 10 members.
The top five players were:
Edel (half Russian, half Lebanese)Ljerkan (Russian)Inès (half Italian, half Argentine)Dayane (half British, half French)Lilith
Their coach, Mrs. Gyda, was American.
She spoke to them and they all nodded in agreement.
After the meeting, Lily left for the mall.
As she entered the sports shop, she accidentally bumped into a man.
"Sorry," she said.
He looked at her, staring for a while.
"Sorry," she repeated.
"No problem, beautiful," he said.
"By the way, what's your name?"
"Excuse me," she said, walking past him.
He blocked her path.
"Come on, just tell me."
"Lily," she said before walking away.
He watched her leave.
"Mrs. Lilith, it's good to see you. How are you?" the manager greeted.
"Lilith… huh…" the man muttered with a dark smile.
Lily paid for everything she bought.
She also purchased everything everyone had written on the list.
The man quietly followed her.
"Hey," he called.
"What now?" Lily asked.
"Can I have your number?"
"No. My husband wouldn't like that. I'm married," she replied.
His expression fell slightly.
"Then… where is your ring?"
She instinctively looked at her fingers.
She remembered how she had lost the ring.
That was what she had been thinking about.
"Hmmm… how about I give you my number? He doesn't have to know, right?" he asked.
"Get lost. He knows. He always knows. Have a nice day," she said before walking away.
Her guards immediately stepped between her and the stranger, shielding her as she left.
He smirked.
"Lily… you just caught my eyes. Beautiful… and now I will make you mine."
He returned to the sports shop.
"Which school is she in?" he asked.
After they told him, he left.
His name was Silas Crowe, the second richest Mafia man.
Lilith arrived home.
She entered Nikolai's office wearing one of his shirts, the oversized fabric hanging loosely over her body.
Nikolai was typing on his workstation, the one Lilith had given him for his birthday.
"Hey Bambi, why the blue face?" he asked.
He noticed her red eyes.
He gently tapped his lap.
She immediately sat on him as he rolled his chair backward.
She wrapped her legs around him.
He held her waist securely.
"What happened, Moya sladkaya malyshka (My sweet baby)?" Nikolai asked while rubbing her back.
"I bumped into a man at the mall today. I said sorry because it was my fault, then he kept staring at me like he had won a prize at a candy store," she said.
He chuckled softly.
"And what happened, sweetheart?" he asked in his mixed accent.
"Well… he kept asking for my number. I told him I am married."
"He said, 'Show me your ring.'"
"I wanted to… but I didn't have it on."
"Nikki…"
"I really wanted to show him my ring."
"Then he started saying disgusting things like, 'He doesn't have to know.'"
"He was very ugly and cheap."
"He is the kind of man who goes around destroying people's marriages."
"I miss my rings."
"They're my symbol of love…"
"Your love for me…"
"And I lost them…"
She finally poured out everything she had been holding inside.
Nikolai gently wiped away her tears.
"Don't worry, Bambi."
"Look at me."
Her glowing green eyes met his brilliant blue ones.
He softly kissed her lips before pulling her into a warm embrace.
She rested peacefully against his chest.
Two more days, Bambi…
He whispered those words only in his mind before gently kissing her forehead.
On the plane…
Farhia held up a long leash fitted with springs that could be tightened and deliver a small electric shock.
"Jaan (Love), this isn't necessary at all. I don't want to go back there," Hammed said.
"You broke my promise, sir."
"Now you will pay."
She smiled.
He sighed.
Soon they landed in Pakistan, in Muzaffarabad Town.
They entered the waiting vehicles.
Farhia looked around the city.
It was beautifully mixed between a village atmosphere and a modern neighborhood.
"Welcome to Muzaffarabad, Jaan (Love)," Hammed said.
"Your home?" she asked.
He nodded.
"I grew up here."
"I lost my mother when I was five due to gunshots."
"We were attacked."
"Baba swore to get revenge."
"He never did."
"He remarried his cousin, who already had a son."
"They later had four children together."
"Not once did he look at me."
"It was only later that he decided to look for me."
"You're the one dragging me there," he said again.
She giggled.
"Hand," she ordered.
He slowly raised his hand.
She immediately cuffed him.
He groaned.
She happily played with the spring.
"How much did you get this for?" Hammed asked.
"Ummmm… eighty-nine hundred."
"I told them I have a stubborn baby boy."
"They gave me a discount."
She smiled proudly.
Hammed blushed deeply after hearing her call him her baby boy.
He leaned back into his seat.
A smile spread across his face.
His heart beat incredibly fast.
The cars finally arrived at the Muzaffarabad Royal Kashmiri Mansion.
Hidden among the emerald mountains of Muzaffarabad, Azad Kashmir, this magnificent Pakistani mansion rose above the valley like a private royal estate built into the hillside.
The mansion combined traditional Kashmiri craftsmanship, Mughal-inspired elegance, and modern ultra-luxury architecture.
The exterior was constructed from natural mountain stone, carved cedar wood, and enormous floor-to-ceiling glass panels that revealed breathtaking views of the surrounding forests, rivers, and towering mountain peaks.
A long private road stretched through perfectly landscaped gardens before reaching a massive handcrafted entrance gate decorated with beautiful Kashmiri patterns.
Inside, the mansion opened into a magnificent double-height grand hall featuring polished marble floors, enormous crystal chandeliers, hand-carved wooden ceilings, and elegant Islamic geometric architecture.
The walls displayed priceless Kashmiri artwork.
Large windows filled the mansion with natural sunlight while offering panoramic views across the valley.
The estate featured:
A massive royal living room with a grand stone fireplace and luxurious traditional carpets.A formal dining hall designed for enormous family gatherings.A luxurious master suite with its own private mountain-view terrace.Multiple guest suites decorated with traditional Kashmiri woodwork.A private library.An executive office.A cinema room.An indoor entertainment lounge.A games area.A luxury spa featuring a sauna, steam room, and indoor swimming pool.A magnificent prayer room designed with intricate Islamic architectural details.
Outside, the estate included:
A mountain-facing infinity pool.Beautiful gardens filled with roses, pine trees, and fruit orchards.A private courtyard inspired by historic Mughal gardens.A massive luxury garage.A helicopter landing area.A separate guest villa.Scenic walking paths overlooking both the Neelum and Jhelum Valleys.
At night, the mansion glowed beneath warm golden lighting that reflected beautifully against the surrounding mountains, creating the breathtaking appearance of a modern Kashmiri palace where ancient heritage met billionaire-level luxury.
Farhia adjusted her Honey Yellow niqab over her face.
"Come on," she said.
Hammed shook his head.
She grabbed him and dragged him inside.
He whined the entire way.
Inside the mansion…
Hammed's father, Mr. Jameel Ahmed, sat quietly looking through old family pictures on his phone.
One photograph showed a younger Hammed smiling brightly beside his father.
Back then, he had adored him.
Now…
Only anger and hatred remained inside him.
The family watched silently.
"Ya Allah, please send an angel that will bring Hammed home," an elderly woman prayed.
She was his grandmother.
Bibi Jan.
She remained seated on her prayer mat.
"Don't worry."
"He will come home."
Hammed's stepmother, Mrs. Nargis, gently comforted her.
Just then…
Farhia walked inside.
"Assalamu Alaikum (Greetings)!" she greeted cheerfully.
"Wa Alaikum Assalām (Peace be upon you)," Mr. Jameel replied.
"Hi," Farhia smiled as she pulled the leash.
"Come on!"
"Sorry dear… who are you?" Mrs. Nargis asked.
"I brought him for you."
"As promised."
"Remember, sir?" Farhia said.
"Farhia?" Mr. Jameel asked.
"Ji sir (Yes sir)," she answered.
"Come on."
"You promised."
She pulled the strings again.
Everyone slowly stood up.
Standing before them was an extraordinarily tall man.
Massively built.
Powerful muscles.
Prominent veins.
Long hair.
A razor-sharp jawline.
Hammed looked directly at his father.
Farhia looked at him.
"Happy?" he asked.
She nodded.
Then giggled.
He smiled at her.
"H… Hammed?" Bibi whispered.
"Dadi (Grandma)," Hammed replied.
"Thank you dear."
"Thank you so very much," Mr. Jameel said.
"No, no, no, no."
"Don't thank me."
"It's nothing."
"Honestly."
Her face remained hidden beneath her veil.
"Thank you dear," Bibi said while hugging her.
"No problem, Dadi (Grandma)," Farhia replied.
"I will fulfill my promise, dear," Mr. Jameel said.
"No, no, no," she interrupted.
"Now hug your Baba or I will tell Amma (Mother) you misbehaved."
Hammed stared at her.
"I am not ready for Amma (Mother) scolding," he admitted.
"Amma (Mother)?" Bibi repeated.
"Pretty please?" Farhia pleaded.
"Fine."
"Only for you."
He finally stepped forward and hugged Mr. Jameel.
Tears streamed down his father's face.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Hammed secretly wiped away his own tears.
Behind her veil…
Farhia smiled.