“I’m sorry, Sana. I’m sorry. Please wake up, dear. Look at me. Just say something. You can shout at me that I’m not your husband, or tell me how much you hate me. Please—anything, Sana. Slap me or punch me—please wake up.”

Someone familiar is begging, but I can’t move or reply.

“I pushed you. I pushed you away! All this time I was falling for you. Every time I think of you I feel like the happiest man, but I was a fool, Sana. I was a fool!”

“My mother left my father and me. She loved another man who left her, and she died because she couldn’t take it. She betrayed us, and my sister died from sickness. She left her sick daughter to die! My father got over it, but I was stuck. I was stuck until you came. Your feisty, loving personality changed me, but I was scared—scared you would leave me like she did.

“I’m sorry, Sana. I was wrong. Please wake up.”

I realize he is crying while holding my hands. My own heart aches and I try to open my eyes, but the light of vision never comes.

I give up and let the darkness consume me.

I wake again, and this time I can open my eyes.

I’m in his room.

I try to move my hands, but something stops me. When I look down, he is holding them close to his chest.

I try to pull them away slowly, not wanting to wake him, but he wakes the moment I move.

He looks at me; when he realizes I’m awake a smile appears on his face and he hugs me.

I don’t pull away.

After a while he releases me and stares at my face. As if on impulse, he kisses my cheek, then leaves.

A maid comes in and smiles. “I’m here to help. Come take a bath first and then I’ll bring you some food,” she says kindly.

I nod and try to stand but fail miserably. She helps me up, but I tell her I’ll bathe later—just bring food.

She’s about to leave when I ask, “What date is it?”

She looks at me, surprised. “It’s October 28. You were out for four days.” Then she leaves.

Four days. I stare in shock and horror.

Seriously? I ask myself. And my husband—he left me after all this. How dare he.

Oh God, what can I do now? I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and so has he, but I don’t want to make any more.

I breathe out and somehow stand. I realize I must pray.

I make my way to the bathroom and perform wudu. After prayer, when the maid leaves to get me food, an idea pops into my head.

I know exactly what I will do. Now he will have to keep up with me.

I smile to myself—an evil little smile—and finish my food.

Mister Leo, here I come.

SOME DAYS LATER

I do want to change my reality and my situation, but if I stay the way I am, nothing will change for the better. I will be stuck, and something bad will happen again and again.

Have you ever thought about the quote: if you want to change the world, change yourself first?

Well, I’ve thought about it—but thinking isn’t enough. I have to act.

My mother used to say every bad situation can be handled with positive thinking, sweetness, and care. My father used to say a king is not a king if he has lost his innocence.

So I’ll treat this marriage seriously and behave properly. I smile mischievously at my own thoughts.

“Mister Leo—you chose me on your own, and now you will pay.” I say the words under my breath.

With that decided, I leave my room and go downstairs. It’s lunchtime; he doesn’t usually eat lunch. I will make him eat.

I go into the kitchen and start preparing lunch for him.

The workers and cooks warn me he won’t like me working with them, but I shut them down: “If he is a king, then I am a queen.” They quiet down.

“You’re going to pay for being rude to me,” I tell the cooks in private—half a joke, half a promise. After cooking, I place the food nicely on a tray and walk toward his office.

At the door I rehearse in my head. I’m not going to knock; I’ll just barge in. It doesn’t matter if he’s in a meeting—does it?

I open the door slightly and step inside.

The sight shocks me: my so-called husband sits with his head in his hands, and his mistress is trying to get his attention.

How could he—she’s still here?

An idea pops into my head and an evil smile spreads across my face.

I clear my throat. He looks up; his eyes widen. The mistress glares.

“I thought it would be nice if we ate lunch together,” I say as sweetly as I can.

“Take it away, Sana. I don’t eat lunch,” he replies calmly.

“Bitch, take it away—he doesn’t want that rotten thing,” the mistress snaps, smiling at me.

“Oops. I’m sorry—I didn’t see you earlier. Where are my manners? Hi, I’m Sana—his wife.” I point at him. “Need anything? You can always ask me.” I smile at her.

“You bitch! Why would I ask anything from you? You’re not worth it,” she spits and stands, starting toward him.

I clear my throat again, and she pauses, angry.

“Well, if you’re not here for anything, you should leave. This is a couple’s business,” I say politely—inside, I’m laughing.

She’s about to snap back when Leo interrupts. “I told you before, Ashley—there’s nothing between us and there never will be. I don’t want to see your face again. Leave us.” His voice is tired.

“But Leo—” she starts, then he bangs his hand on the table and pulls his gun. She screams and runs away crying.

I grin when she leaves and look at him. “I told you I don’t eat lunch. What are you doing here? I’m busy.” He doesn’t even look at me.

“Exactly my point. There’s always a first time for everything,” I say, setting the tray on his table and tidying the mess.

He places his gun angrily on the table. “Leave, Sana. Don’t test me.”

“Ooh—can’t I come see my husband?” I ask, and start to eat.

“Besides,” I add, “it’s your first time eating your wife’s cooking.” I smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “You made it yourself?”

I nod.

“My workers tried to stop me; they said you’d never be allowed to work. But if my husband can order them, I can too,” I say, smiling.

He doesn’t press further and begins to eat. His eyes show amusement.

Yes—Sana, this is your first step.

I barely remember where I was thinking, but when he clears his throat and asks what’s wrong, I just shrug.

This is going to be fun: a strict, dominant husband and his cute, sweet—but deadly—wife.

That evening he officially gives me the responsibility for his dinners because he liked my lunch. I want to slap him for the smug way he said, “My wife will make breakfast, lunch, and dinner from now on; I won’t eat from anyone else.” Instead I smile politely.

Before I leave his office he says, “My dear wife, both can play this game.”

I slam the door and huff.

Yes—both can play this game.

Leo’s POV (excerpt)

She left after I said we could both play the game. I don’t want to play her stupid games.

I’m surprised she’s taking the marriage seriously—a poor soul. It’ll be too late before she realizes she’s nothing to me but a doll I can use and throw away.

The way she mocked Ashley surprised me—that makes her a threat to the family and the business. I can’t let that stand.

I pick up the phone and call Alex. “Bring Peter to my office now,” I order.

They knock five minutes later. “Boss, you called?” Peter says.

“Do something about Sana. She’s a threat,” I tell them.

“How is she a threat?” Alex asks, taunting.

“Leo, tell us—how is a single girl dangerous?” Peter adds. “You nearly died because of her a week ago. Now what?”

Their tone annoys me. Alex reminds me we had to reschedule meetings with Xerver and Xander because of the chaos. Peter points out both were absent too—perhaps part of the same plan to ruin our meeting. If our contract is signed, other mafias can’t touch us. Someone interfered.

“What do you want us to do with Sana?” Peter asks. Alex doesn’t look pleased.

“Nothing. You’re right — a single girl is not a threat,” I say, knowing that if anything happens to her I could never forgive myself. A smile curls on my lips—she will be the end of me. If only he knew the one who planned the chaos was her, and she has more plans no one can guess.