Ömür Bardakçı tried to remember that she was supposed to smile and act as if there weren't a thousand places she'd rather be, but it proved difficult. Nothing she ever did helped her stand Yaman. Everything about the man repulsed her. Given that he was her fiancé, she was supposed to, at least, like him. But she didn't.

A short man, not even close to looking nice, with black hair, a clean shaven face, and, small green eyes, Yaman often made jokes that didn't even seem to come close to funny to Ömür. Even worse, from the day she had agreed to get engaged to him, he had started talking about her to others referring to her as his wife.

Taking a sip from her glass of wine, Ömür smiled, pretending to find whatever he was saying interesting. She wasn't sure if he talked about the plot of a movie or was exaggerating something he did once.

Why had she even agreed to get engaged to that man? In retrospect, the other candidates her mother had presented to her might have been a better alternative. She had chosen Yaman because he wasn't that bright, and he was already half in love with her. Ömür had thought that would help her in the future, but her fiancé clearly had not even the slightest interest in work. She would bet that, if he could, Yaman would make his father immortal just so that he never had to work himself. If Yaman was willing to allow his father and hers to handle the work, then how could Ömür herself get involved in her family's business? Especially when her father didn't allow it?

"What do you think?"

Ömür blinked, the question taking her by surprise. She took another sip from her wine, trying to stall. What had he talked about? Was it a movie? Something he did?

"I agree with you," she said, deciding that it had to be the best answer.

Yaman's whole face lit up, so Ömür thought whatever she had agreed to couldn't be that bad. Maybe he had asked if she found that movie interesting. Or that she agreed with whatever conclusion he had drawn from whatever he had said.

"I have to admit," Yaman said, leaning forward, "I didn't expect you to agree. Or, at least, not that quickly. But I think that if we tell our families, we can get married in a few weeks."

Ömür's eyes grew large as she took in his words. What? When had the subject changed from the movie's plot to their wedding? She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but she couldn't. What could she say now? She couldn't admit that she hadn't payed attention to him. That would be rude, and Ömür didn't want to upset her parents because she hadn't been in the mood to listen to Yaman.

"You didn't let me finish," Ömür said, regaining control over herself. "I agree with you, but I don't think my father will. There are a lot of things that we must prepare. My father wants the wedding of his only daughter to be worthy of our name."

Yaman's smile died on his face, but Ömür didn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him. She didn't care that he wasn't handsome or smart. She could have found a way to live with him. But she had seen small signs that made her be alert. Yaman was controlling, and Ömür wasn't a woman who liked to be controled by those around her. He already saw her as something that belonged to him, someone he could control.

Everything about that meeting, because Ömür refused to think about it like a date, had been carefully planned by Yaman. From the expensive restaurant with black tables and chairs and it's golden chandeliers, to the seat by the window, facing the entrance, allowing Yaman to see who entered and which cars left. The only things Ömür had chosen herself were her navy blue dress with an asymmetrical neckline and her silver jewellery.

Going back on her word was something she was not allowed to do. She had made her bed with her own hands. Nobody warned her about how Yaman was, but she should have thought more. She should have made that decision more carefully. The only thing left for Ömür to do now was to play this game. If that meant pretending to love Yaman and carefully manipulating him, she was willing to do it.

"True," Yaman said after a few moments of silence. "I don't want to upset Hazım baba."

He's my father, not yours! Stop calling him baba.

Ömür smiled, taking another sip from the glass. Maybe she should spill the wine on her dress and escape. She wasn't sure if the red wine would come out from her dress, but that seemed like a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Yaman tilted his head towards something behind her before saying, "Bulent came."

Ömür turned her head around to see her older brother coming towards them with two men at his back. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Bulent needed to make a show every time he went out, taking two bodyguards with him. It would have been better to send one of them or to come alone. However, if her brother was going to take her home, Ömür wasn't going to criticise him too much.

"Abi, something happened?" Ömür asked.

"Mother called," Bulent said after he got closer to their table. "She asked me to come and pick you up after I finished my work."

"We haven't finished our dinner," Yaman said.

Bulent shrugged. "Bad luck," he then tilted his head towards the exit. "Let's go, Ömür. I don't have all day to wait around for you."

Taking her purse, Ömür threw one look towards Yaman before saying, "We'll have time for other dinners."

Yaman didn't answer, and she didn't stay to convince him to do it. Instead, Ömür followed her brother to the exit, the person who had taken her coat handing it back to her. She walked towards the blue car that belonged to her brother, her high heels echoing on the pavement. One of the bodyguards rushed to open the door for her, the other going on the other side to do the same for her brother.

"You could have been more polite," Ömür answered after both doors were closed.

"You'll marry him. You can be as polite as you want with him. Why do I care?"

"Because he will work with you," Ömür said, leaning towards her brother. "You need those men and their heirs on your side. You can't risk them turning against you."

Bulent laughed as one of the bodyguard started the engine of the car, driving away from the restaurant.

"They would never dare to turn against us."

"Don't be stupid," Ömür argued. "Greed and fear can make a person do anything. If you think yourself invincible, you'll find out, in the hardest way, that everyone can be touched."

Sometimes, Ömür wondered if her father didn't see that. The higher he rose, the more he risked to fall, and the only way to stop that would be to have allies next to him. Making more enemies was foolish. Instead of turning people against him, her father should assure their loyalty. Killing their loved ones wasn't the way to keep them by his side.

"Dear sister," Bulent said, "why don't you focus on choosing wedding venues and flowers instead of getting involved in my business?"

"That business," Ömür said, "concerns me, too."

Bulent chuckled, leaning back with a smile on his face. Ömür rolled her eyes before moving to look on the window, knowing that she didn't have any chance of convincing her brother. Buildings and lights flashed before her, and part of Ömür wanted to get out of the car and walk through the streets of Istanbul. She found it relaxing, walking with her headphones, listening to music, until she forgot all her worries.

She wondered how it would be, to be far away from the mess that came with her surname. In a place where her father could not try to dictate her fate. Somewhere far away, where her every move would not be calculated, where she would be able to make mistakes without fearing that the consequences might turn her into a disappointment in her father's eyes.

When she had studied abroad, Ömür had still been afraid that she would make such a mistake that her father would learn about it immediately. She had feared that her actions might make Hazım disappointed in her, without taking into consideration what she truly wanted. Her father had told her to study abroad, Ömür had done it. He had told her to study management, she had listened to him, although she had had different dreams. He had told her to get married, and she would soon marry a man she didn't even like. It felt as if she was stuck in her father's concept of a perfect daughter, with no other desire than to get out, but no way of doing it.

Lost in thought, Ömür didn't even realise when the car slowed down, entering their driveway. Seeing the row of cars parked there, she realised her father was in one of his meetings. She hated being there when that happened because she wanted to know what was being discussed but no one ever told her. And listening to the door wasn't a choice.

The driver rushed to open the door for her brother, and Ömür followed Bulent, throwing one glance as the man who had drove moved the car in the parking lot. Ömür could feel the gazes upon her, and for a moment she wondered if those men had never actually seen her before. As they didn't come there every month. Ömür had been told many times that she was beautiful, with her oval face, pale skin, brown hair with the front streaks dyed blonde and blue eyes framed by arched eyebrows. However, some of those men and even some of their fathers or brothers stared at her as if she was a dessert. And she hated that.

Ömür took a few steps towards the entrance, wanting to go inside, before a voice stopped her.

"Bulent, everyone is here but you. Or have you finally realised that your small mind can't comprehend what we're doing here?"

Ömür turned her head around to watch her brother walking towards the man who had spoke, whom she recognised as Iskender Bardakçı. Dressed in a grey suit with a black vest and shirt, he stood out between the men who wore black, only a step away from his car. He couldn't be much older than Ömür herself, maybe in his early thirties, although his brother had to be more than fifty.

"Iskender, I don't know who you think-"

"Bulent," Ömür called after her brother. "Getting into a fight in front of Father's home is beneath you."

Iskender opened his mouth, probably deciding that getting into a fight was a good idea, before something behind Ömür caught his eye. Turning her head around, she saw Vedat coming down the stairs with two men carrying a body bag. Feeling a shiver down her spine, Ömür pulled her brother closer to her.

She hated Vedat. Everything about her father's closest friend made her want to move as far away from him as possible. There was something about the way that man found happiness in playing with others, something in the way Ömür could tell that he was waiting every time to go down those stairs with a body, knowing exactly how much someone there was about to suffer.

Vedat walked over to one of the men, but Ömür wasn't looking at him and she wasn't paying enough attention to hear what he was saying. Instead, her eyes remained on Iskender. His fists were clenched and he had a look in his gaze that made her think he wanted to kill Vedat. After a moment, his eyes caught hers, but Ömür didn't avert her gaze. It only took a moment before Iskender's eyes moved to the staircase, and Ömür turned her head around to see more men exiting her father's house.

Without waiting for her brother, Ömür walked inside. As she stopped to leave her coat in the hanger, she watched Vedat enter the house, walking towards her father's office, where Hazım could always be found after such meetings. Despite the rational part of herself telling her to stay put, Ömür took off her high heels, holding them in her hands, and, after waiting for Vedat to enter the office, followed her father's closest friend.

The hall was large, with a spiralling staircase making it easy to access the upper floors, an arched opening in the wall on her right side revealing the living room, while a smaller corridor led to Hazım's office. The floor was made of the same white marble in the hallway, and Ömür walked carefully, not wanting to make any sound.

"–trusted your judgement," Ömür heard her father say. "He's an idiot. It will all be for nothing."

"It won't be," Vedat replied. "Yasin will fall into our trap. If he doesn't, then Iskender or Alpaslan will. We only need to wait."

Ömür frowned, moving closer to the office. She had only seen the Bardakçı family from distance a few times, but even Ömür knew that Yasin would never turn on her father. Unless Hazım turned on him first.

"Any news about Mr. Șeref?" Ömür's father asked.

"He's still in a comma," Vedat answered. "As soon as he wakes up, we'll–"

"Ömür, what are you doing?"

Turning around, Ömür put her finger over her mouth, signaling her mother to shush. She hurried to leave the corridor, thankful when she didn't hear the door to her father's office opening. Her mother hadn't spoken loudly, so maybe they hadn't heard.

Zümrüt was a woman of average height, with dark brown hair and eyes of the same colour. She had an oval face and always dressed elegantly. Tonight, Ömür's mother wore a dark purple blouse with long sleeves and a black skirt with a pair of high heels.

"Nothing," Ömür answered. It was obviously a lie, but she knew her mother well enough to know that Zümrüt wouldn't press the matter.

"How did the dinner go?"

"Fine," Ömür lied again, walking past her mother towards the stairs and her room.

Baba - (bah-bah) - Father

Abi - (ah-bee) - Brother (older)