Ayesha Rahman hated three things in life.
Lies. Blood. And men who thought power made them untouchable.
She was the daughter of a respected judge in Dhaka, raised in a house where justice was sacred and danger was something seen only on the news.
She was soft-spoken, intelligent, and far too brave for her own good.
At twenty-two, she worked part-time in a children's hospital and spent her evenings sketching dresses she'd never wear.
She wanted a peaceful life.
But peace had a strange habit of breaking when Rayan Malik entered the room.
He was the kind of man people noticed before they even saw him.
Tall. Cold. Sharp jaw. Black suits. Eyes like storms.
Rumors followed him like shadows.
Some said he owned half the city.
Others whispered he controlled the other half.
No one ever said the word mafia out loud.
But everyone knew.
And Ayesha hated him the second he saved her life