Chapter 5 Passwords and Devils

Zara turned the USB over in her palm like it was a grenade waiting to go off.

Khalid hadn't taken it back.

He'd pressed it into her hand and said, with quiet finality, "You can keep it. But it only opens with a password you used to know."

That was his game-giving just enough rope to hang herself. And maybe him, too.

She plugged it into the sleek laptop in her room and stared at the password prompt.

Enter access key:

She tried the obvious first.

Zara.

ZaraAlmasi.

Khalid.

Ghost.

199X - her birth year.

RedDress.

Safe.

Each attempt blinked back in rejection.

Access denied. Again and again.

She sat back in her chair, heart racing. What did I used to know?

---

The mansion pressed in tighter each day. She felt it in the walls, in the way the staff watched her-smiles too still, words too measured.

But Amina had changed.

Not openly. Just in glances that lasted a second too long. In the way she hesitated before answering simple questions. And today, as Zara stood near the east balcony, Amina approached her with something in her eyes Zara hadn't seen before:

Unease.

"Whatever you think of Khalid," Amina said under her breath, "you should know... he's not the one who scares me."

Zara stiffened. "Then who does?"

Amina glanced at the camera on the wall, her lips barely moving.

"He may be the devil you know," she whispered, "but someone else in this house wants you gone."

Zara's breath caught.

"Why?" she asked.

But Amina was already walking away.

---

That night, dinner was set in the glass-walled conservatory. Just her and Khalid.

No staff. No guards. Just candlelight and the scent of saffron rice and grilled lamb.

Zara sipped her wine and waited for him to speak first.

He didn't disappoint.

"You asked me how we met," he said, voice smooth as ever. "It wasn't here. Not in Nigeria. It was in Istanbul."

That jolted her. "Istanbul?"

"You were running. I was bleeding. You tried to steal my gun."

Zara blinked. "That doesn't sound like me."

"You'd just jumped off a pier. You were barefoot. Shivering. You were trying to disappear, and so was I."

He leaned forward, watching her reaction.

"You saved me from the man who shot me," he continued. "Hit him with a wine bottle. I still have the scar."

Zara's lips parted. "That's insane."

"You asked for my help after that," he said. "Said you had nowhere else to go. Said the people looking for you weren't just dangerous... they were connected. That you'd done something. Something that couldn't be undone."

She shook her head slowly. "Why would I believe you?"

Khalid's gaze darkened, but his voice stayed calm. "Because it's the only thing that explains why you're still alive."

Zara felt the floor tilt beneath her.

Later that night, unable to sleep, she pulled the hidden diary from its place beneath the mattress.

She turned the pages slowly, hands trembling, until she found the next entry-her own scrawl, panicked and uneven.

> "I did something terrible. If Khalid finds out, he'll never forgive me... but if he doesn't protect me, they'll kill me."

The air drained from her lungs.

What had she done?

She set the diary down, heart hammering.

Her mind raced with possibilities-blackmail, betrayal, a secret deal gone wrong.

Did I hurt someone? Steal something? Kill?

She looked up, suddenly aware of the camera in the corner of her room.

Its small red light blinked once.

Then again.

Zara stepped back from the desk, blood turning to ice in her veins.

Someone was watching.

Someone had always been watching.

She clutched the diary to her chest and backed into the shadows, whispering to herself in the dark.

"What did I do?"

And miles away, in a hidden room lined with monitors, someone smiled.