Oops, message sent 📨

The car Ateş had sent dropped Arzu off right at her doorstep. She carefully avoided putting too much weight on her injured foot as she opened the door and stepped inside. The moment Mert saw his mother, he ran toward her excitedly — but when Arzu’s face twisted in pain, the little boy immediately stopped and looked up at her in concern.

At that moment, Natya came rushing from the kitchen, her Turkish heavily mixed with a Russian accent. "Miss Arzu, what happened to you?"

Mert then noticed the bandage wrapped around his mother’s head and the way she was favoring her injured foot. He frowned, his eyes full of sadness. "Did you fall because you were trying to keep your promise to come on time, Mommy?"

Arzu quickly pulled her son into her arms and whispered gently, "Of course not, sweetheart. Mommy had a small accident this morning, so I had to go to the hospital. But I’m okay now, see? I'm right here with you."

Mert stared into his mother’s face for a moment, thinking, then his eyes lit up. "Then can we make soup for you? You always make me soup when I’m sick. It makes me feel better."

Arzu smiled warmly. "Of course we can, honey. Let’s do it together."

Meanwhile, Natya was still eyeing Arzu anxiously, a mixture of fear and curiosity in her gaze. Arzu turned to her and murmured quietly, "We’ll talk later."

When Arzu finally made it upstairs and stepped into the warm shower, the emotions she had been suppressing for hours crashed down on her like a heavy weight. She could feel her mental breakdown turning into something physical. Everything that had happened played out over and over in her mind, steaming and swirling with the water around her.

After the shower, she wrapped her hair carelessly in a towel and picked up her new phone. But there were no emails, no apps — it felt as empty as her life had become. She sighed and set the phone down on the coffee table.

Just then, a message tone made her flinch. She glanced at the screen. It was a message from Yaman: "If you want revenge, I can help."

Arzu shook her head with a grimace. It wasn’t that simple. A man like that wasn’t even worth a second thought. Without hesitation, she called the secretary of the company's board. "Hello, this is Arzu. I need to schedule an immediate shareholders’ meeting."

The voice on the other end was brisk. "Understood. It'll be ready by tomorrow."

When Arzu hung up, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The bruises, the swelling, the cuts across her face... Yet none of it scared her. None of it saddened her. It only fueled her rage. And that rage was proof: she was ready to end this — once and for all.

She got dressed quickly and went downstairs. Whatever happened, she would not let her son see her break.

The Next Morning

When Arzu woke up early, she noticed someone had sent her a crutch from a medical center. The doctor had said all necessary treatments had been completed — it was clear she owed her life to that mysterious man.

She dressed in a simple black dress, threw on a jacket, and headed downstairs. "Natya," she said sharply, "remember what we talked about. I don’t want anyone near Mert. No reporters, no friends, no one. You must follow my instructions exactly if we’re going to get through this safely."

Natya nodded eagerly. "I understand, Miss Arzu. I protect Mert. I call if anything."

Arzu grabbed her bag. "Good girl. I’m heading out." "Okay! Be careful!" Natya called after her. "Thanks," Arzu said softly as she left the house.

When she arrived at the company, the security guard at the door immediately rose and saluted her. This place had been her father's pride and joy — and maybe that’s why Arzu had always hated it. But she wasn’t about to let it crumble because of a worthless man.

She headed toward the elevator. Just as she pressed the button, someone hurried up beside her and grabbed her arm. When she turned and saw who it was, her stomach twisted.

Faruk Tarhan. The man her father had once tried to force upon her as a suitable husband.

Faruk grinned smugly. "Well, well, Miss Arzu. What an honor to see you."

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed, his shirt and jacket hugging his athletic frame. But to Arzu, he was nothing more than an empty, soulless shell.

Without missing a beat, she replied coolly, "Wish I could say the same, but you know I never really liked you."

At that moment, the elevator doors opened. Arzu stepped inside and pressed the button, heading straight for the meeting room. Faruk followed, not missing a beat.

"You know," he said in a low voice, "time has been good to you, Arzu. Those curves look even better now than they did back in the day."

Arzu growled under her breath, "Asshole."

When she entered the meeting room, she sat down confidently. Today, she had only one goal: to protect her son’s future — no matter what it took.

The meeting started, and soon shareholders began voicing their complaints, furious over the financial losses caused by her husband's fraud. The tension in the room thickened with every angry voice.

"I understand, Miss Arzu," one of them said, "but a lot of investors have lost a fortune. Someone has to be held accountable."

Arzu cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "Let’s not forget one important fact: I’m an attorney. And legally speaking, I am just as much a victim as any of you. That man — my husband — is now nothing more than a criminal and a stranger to me. What matters now is stopping the collapse of this company."

At that moment, Faruk let out a sharp laugh and jumped in: "Actually, I agree with Miss Arzu. Honestly, compared to my fortune, my losses are barely a scratch. If you'd like, you can transfer your shares to FK Group. I’ll take over the board leadership. We can spin this in the media as a positive change — and maybe save the company."

A murmur rippled through the room. It was clear that Faruk’s offer tempted many of them. Arzu, however, clenched her teeth silently. Depending on him was the last thing she ever wanted. But none of the other minds at that table had a better solution.

That Night

When Arzu returned home, Mert was already fast asleep. Natya rushed to meet her at the door, her face filled with excitement. "Miss Arzu! How it went? Everything okay?"

Arzu let out a weary breath. "It's complicated, Natya. But it’ll work out."

Natya hesitated, then asked shyly: "I won’t have to leave, right? Even if no pay... I want stay. You are like sister to me. I have no one in Turkey..."

Arzu’s heart clenched painfully. Unlike her husband, there were still loyal, good-hearted people left in her life. With tears in her eyes, she clasped Natya’s hands tightly. "Thank you, Natya," she said sincerely, pulling her into a hug.

Natya beamed with happiness. "Now go get some rest," Arzu said gently. "I’m just going to have a drink and head to bed."

Natya immediately offered, "I make snack? Or meze?"

Arzu shook her head with a small smile. "No, thank you. Just one drink and I’m off."

Natya bowed her head happily and went to her room. Arzu sighed deeply. The loneliness of the night wrapped itself around her... but at least there were still people who cared.

She went to the home bar, poured herself a strong whiskey, and collapsed onto the couch. Her mind raced. Where was her husband right now? Was he happy? Was he in the arms of another woman? Even thinking about it made her stomach twist.

After a few more glasses, the bitterness and anger inside her bubbled up fiercely. On impulse, she grabbed her phone and opened the front camera. Her shirt was unbuttoned nearly to her underwear, her skirt hitched up high, the black garter belt just barely peeking from beneath her stockings. Exactly the kind of image she wanted to send.

Without thinking twice, she opened WhatsApp. Her husband’s chat had always been pinned to the top. She clicked it, attached the photo, and typed: "I’m happy too. Good riddance, you pathetic loser."

She set the phone down with a smirk, imagining the explosion it would cause. But... a few seconds later, she glanced at the screen — and her heart clenched in horror. The message had been sent to the wrong person.

The name flashing on the screen was: Ateş Yamanoğlu. And somewhere, not too far away, Ateş stared at the photo with a wicked grin curling his lips.

A message like that... was an invitation. And it had just been delivered to the worst possible man.