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Important note : Both male and female lead characters are virgin.

Chvi pov:)

My question hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous. My eyes bored into Murat, demanding answers he wasn't ready to give. 

His silence only made the tension worse, each passing second fanning the flames of my frustration.

"Murat." My voice was firmer this time as I tugged on his hand, grounding him. "Tell me. What did he mean?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the tendons in his neck tight with barely contained rage. His anger wasn't directed at me, but I could see it, feel it, simmering beneath his calm facade.

"It's nothing," he muttered, his tone clipped and defensive. "He's trying to get into your head. That's what he does."

My gaze didn't waver. My brows furrowed, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "Nothing? Murat, he looked me straight in the eye and said I'd regret being with you. That doesn't sound like nothing."

His jaw tightened, his teeth clenched in a way that told me he was holding back something he didn't want to say. "I can handle him," he said finally, his voice low and tight. "You don't need to worry about it."

Before I could push further, the door flew open, and one of his guards rushed in, his face pale and panic-stricken.

"Your Highness," the guard said, his voice trembling. "The Sultan is calling you urgently."

Murat turned to me, his expression unreadable but tinged with something close to regret. He reached for my hand, holding it tightly for a moment. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice firm but laced with worry. "Don't trust anyone, Chavi. Be safe."

I watched him leave, my chest tightening as his figure disappeared down the corridor. Something about his urgency, his final warning, left me with an uneasy feeling I couldn't shake.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the doorway, until a voice crept into the silence, slithering into my ears like poison.

"Well, well," a slow, mocking drawl cut through the air. "So, you're the one who's going to marry him."

I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Slowly, I turned, and my breath caught when I saw the figure lounging against the far wall—Sulaman.

His smile was a crooked, sinister thing, a smirk that radiated confidence and malice.

"I've been waiting to meet you," he said, his voice smooth and unsettling. "You're just as pretty as they said, but a bit naïve, no?"

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to remain calm even as my heart raced. "What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Sulaman chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Straight to the point. I like that." He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up his prey. "I want to show you something. Or, rather, I want to tell you the truth about Murat."

His words were like a dagger aimed at my chest. My stomach churned, but I kept my expression neutral. "What truth?"

"That he's not who you think he is," Sulaman said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "I heard you're going to marry him because he won some competition in your kingdom.

How charming. But don't worry... you won't want to marry him once you see this."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper, but he didn't hand it to me. Instead, he smirked, holding it just out of reach.

I glared at him, my instincts screaming not to trust him. "If you have something to say, say it," I snapped.

Sulaman's grin widened. "Oh, I'll do more than say it. I'll show you. Follow me, and you'll see Murat for who he really is."

His words hung in the air, each syllable dripping with malice and manipulation. My mind raced. What did he mean? What could he possibly show me that would change everything?

I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Every instinct told me to walk away, to stay where Murat had told me to stay. 

But Sulaman's smirk was taunting, daring me to find out what he was hiding.

Should I go with him? Should I risk it, knowing he was dangerous, knowing he thrived on chaos? Or should I stay, trusting that Murat's warning was enough?

My heart thundered in my chest as I stood frozen in place, the weight of the decision crushing me. Whatever I chose, I knew there was no turning back.

I came here to look at the life Murat lives—the life my potential future husband leads. But if I only see it through his eyes, he'll show me the best parts, the polished surface meant to impress. 

Sulaman's words lingered in my mind like a dark shadow, taunting me. Against my better judgment, I nodded.

His smirk widened, triumphant and sinister, as he gestured for me to follow. "Smart girl," he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

We walked through the palace halls, my footsteps echoing alongside his. He led me toward Murat's chambers, and confusion bubbled in my mind. Why here? What was he planning to show me?

Sulaman stopped before Murat's chamber doors, turning to me with a smirk that made my skin crawl. "You're about to see something extraordinary," he said. "Beautiful, from a man's perspective. Ugly and disgusting, from a woman's."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to let him see my unease. Sulaman pushed open the chamber door and strode inside with the confidence of someone who owned the place.

I followed cautiously, my fingers brushing against the hidden dagger tucked beneath my dress. My heart pounded, an uneasy rhythm that matched the tension in the air.

To my surprise, he didn't stop in the chamber. Instead, he approached a section of the wall and pressed a hidden latch. A soft click echoed, and a secret door swung open, revealing a staircase leading downward.

Sulaman glanced back at me, his grin widening. "Come along, princess. The truth awaits."

Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, but I forced myself to follow. My steps were cautious as I descended the narrow staircase. The air grew cooler, heavier, the scent of candles and flowers mingling with something I couldn't quite place.

 The walls were made of glass, and as we continued down, the flickering glow of hundreds of candles illuminated the path.

The atmosphere was almost hypnotic, enchanting in a way that felt wrong. And then, as we reached the bottom, I froze.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight before me. A massive hall stretched out, its walls adorned with intricate patterns of gold and glass. 

The air was thick with the scent of exotic flowers, and soft music played in the background.

But what drew my attention—and my horror—were the women.

There were more than a hundred of them, standing in perfect lines. They were draped in sheer, glittering fabrics that barely covered their bodies, their skin glistening under the warm light. 

Some held instruments, others stood poised as if waiting for an unspoken command.

Sulaman leaned against the wall, his smirk growing as he watched my reaction. "These," he said, his voice laced with mockery, "are Murat's personal entertainers. The best dancers in the kingdom.

 They exist solely for his pleasure, to dance for the crown prince and ensure he's never bored."

My stomach twisted, a storm of emotions battling within me. Outrage, disbelief, disgust. But I refused to let Sulaman see it. 

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and turned to him, my expression calm and unwavering.

"In our kingdom," I said evenly, my voice steady, "many ministers have their own courtesans. It's not uncommon."

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but it quickly returned. "Oh, princess," he said, his tone mocking. "You're good at pretending. But I can see the fire in your eyes. You're angry, aren't you? Furious that Murat didn't show you this when he gave you the grand tour of his chambers."

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to remain composed. "If this is your grand revelation, Sulaman, I'm unimpressed," I said, my tone sharp.

Sulaman's smug grin widened, his eyes glittering with malice as the beautiful woman in front of us tilted her head, her perfect features framed by the soft glow of candlelight. She exuded confidence, a lethal allure that made my stomach churn.

"Not at all, Princess Chavi," Sulaman drawled, his voice oozing satisfaction. He clapped twice, and from the shadows emerged yet another woman, her figure just as mesmerizing, her every movement deliberate and tantalizing.

 She approached with a soft sway in her hips, her eyes darting past me to Sulaman.

She salamed him gracefully, then turned her attention to me, her lips curving into a sultry smile. "Where is Prince Murat?" she asked in a voice like silk, her tone laced with seduction. "I thought he would be here. He usually doesn't keep me waiting."

I stiffened. The words were innocuous to some, but to me, they were a dagger slicing through my composure. Sulaman tilted his head toward her and gestured dramatically. "Ah, my dear. Why don't you take us to your chamber? Let's not keep the princess waiting."

The woman gave him a coy smile and led the way, her elegance grating on my already fraying nerves. I followed reluctantly, my fists clenched at my sides, my mind racing. Each step felt heavier than the last, a cruel buildup to whatever Sulaman was plotting.

When we entered her chamber, my heart sank further. The space was lavish, draped in silks and adorned with gold, but it was the bed at the center of the room that drew my gaze. A woman sat there, her back to us, her posture slumped. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, but what caught my attention were the bruises on her arms, the faint marks on her neck—hickeys.

She didn't even turn around when she spoke, her voice low, sultry, and unapologetically intimate. "Prince Murat," she purred, her words dripping with suggestion, "I'm still not recovered from our previous encounter. You certainly don't hold back."

My vision blurred with rage, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure. I wasn't a fool. I knew exactly what she was implying.

The storm inside me roared louder. Murat, you are so gone. How could he hide this from me? How could he give me his chamber tour, make me feel special, and never once mention the secrets hidden just out of sight?

And yet, as fury boiled in my veins, doubt began to creep in. Sulaman was manipulative, a master of twisting the truth to serve his agenda. Could this really be what it seemed?

But how could I ignore what was right in front of me?

Sulaman stepped closer, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Now, tell me, princess. Do you still think he's worthy of your love and trust?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer. My silence only seemed to fuel his delight.

Before I could find the words—or the strength—to respond, a sound broke through the tense silence.

Footsteps.

They echoed from above, deliberate and steady, growing louder with every passing second. My heart leapt into my throat as I whipped around, my pulse racing.

Sulaman's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he too turned toward the source of the noise.

The hall fell deathly silent, the air thick with tension. Whoever was coming wasn't in a hurry—they were deliberate, calculated, their presence commanding attention before they even appeared.

I gripped the hilt of the hidden dagger beneath my dress, bracing myself. Was it Murat? Or someone else entirely?

The footsteps stopped just beyond the doorway, and the shadows seemed to darken.

"Who's there?" Sulaman called out, his confidence slipping ever so slightly.

The room remained still, the anticipation suffocating, as a low, menacing voice finally broke the silence.

"You shouldn't have brought her here, Sulaman."

My breath caught. It was Murat.

And the rage in his voice promised a storm like none I'd ever seen before.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Murat stepped into the dim light. His expression was a storm—his jaw tight, his eyes burning with unspoken fury. 

Dressed in dark silks that clung to his broad shoulders, he looked every bit the commanding prince. But beneath his regal exterior, there was a raw, dangerous edge that made my pulse quicken with both fear and anticipation.

Sulaman, for all his bravado, took a cautious step back, though the smirk on his face didn't falter. "Ah, Prince Murat," he drawled, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "We were just having a little tour. The princess seemed... curious about your life."

Murat's eyes flicked to me, his gaze lingering for a fraction too long, as if trying to gauge what I'd seen, what I was thinking. I met his stare head-on, my expression unreadable despite the turmoil inside me.

"What are you doing here, Sulaman?" Murat's voice was low, controlled, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

Sulaman chuckled, shrugging theatrically. "Only enlightening your dear princess. Surely, she deserves to know the truth about the man she's promised to marry?"

Murat's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Leave."

Sulaman raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Leave? But I've barely begun. I was just about to—"

"I said leave," Murat interrupted, his tone like ice. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, his command hanging in the air like a blade.

For a moment, Sulaman hesitated, his confidence faltering. But then, with a mocking bow, he stepped back. "Very well. But don't blame me when she starts asking questions you can't answer."

He glanced at me, his smile sharp as a knife. "Think carefully, Princess. The truth is often far uglier than the lies."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a silence so heavy it pressed against my chest.

Murat turned to me, his shoulders tense, his expression unreadable. "Chavi..." His voice was softer now, almost pleading.

I took a step back, my arms crossed over my chest as I fought to steady my breathing. "Don't. Don't you dare try to explain this away."

He winced, but his gaze never wavered. "It's not what you think."

I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. "Not what I think? I just walked into a room full of half-naked women and heard one of them talk about your... encounters. What am I supposed to think, Murat?"

His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something I couldn't quite place—guilt, anger, desperation? "I didn't want you to see this. It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" My voice rose, my anger bubbling over. "You hid this from me. You lied to me, Murat. If Sulaman hadn't shown me, would you have ever told me the truth?"

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch me, but I moved back, the distance between us growing both physically and emotionally.

"Chavi, I—"

"Don't," I cut him off, my voice trembling with barely contained fury. "Don't you dare say another word unless it's the truth."

The weight of his silence was deafening. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he looked... defeated.

But before either of us could say anything more, a sharp cry echoed from somewhere deeper within the chambers. It was a woman's voice, filled with fear and pain.

I froze, my heart pounding as the sound sent shivers down my spine. Murat's expression darkened instantly, his entire body tensing like a predator about to strike.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice a low growl.

But I shook my head, my own anger and curiosity driving me forward. "No. I'm coming with you."

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he nodded, the tension between us momentarily overshadowed by the danger that awaited.

Together, we moved toward the source of the sound, the flickering candlelight casting long, ominous shadows on the walls. The air grew colder, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken threats.

As we approached a heavy wooden door, Murat stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He glanced at me, his expression grim. "Stay behind me."

I nodded, clutching the dagger hidden in my dress, my pulse racing as he pushed the door open.

Inside, the scene that greeted us was both horrifying and surreal. A woman knelt on the cold stone floor, her wrists bound, her face streaked with tears. 

Standing over her was a man I didn't recognize, his face twisted into a cruel smile.

Murat's voice was a deadly calm as he stepped into the room. "What is the meaning of this?"

The man turned, his grin faltering when he saw Murat. "Your Highness," he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

But before Murat could respond, the woman on the floor looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. "Help me," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

And just like that, the fragile thread holding my trust together snapped.

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DON'T WORRY I will post next chapter at night today byeeeeeeeeeeeee