บททั้งหมดของ The CEO's Fated Queen: Reclaiming the Stolen Empire: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Three days. To the rest of Oakhaven, three days was just a blink of an eye—a few sunrises, a few sunsets, and the mundane rhythm of a city that never stopped breathing. But for Zara, these three days had felt like three agonizing centuries. Since the disastrous night at the restaurant, the world had turned gray. The vibrant colors of her ambition had been washed away by the rain that had soaked her to the bone that night. Zara sat on the edge of her creaky wooden cot in the cramped PG room she shared with three other girls. The mattress was thin, the springs biting into her skin, but she barely felt the physical discomfort. Her gaze was fixed on her hands—palms up, empty, and trembling slightly. She felt hollowed out, like a delicate glass vase that had been shattered by a careless hand and then glued back together too many times. She was standing, she was breathing, but the cracks were everywhere. Her smile, the one thing that had always been her shield against the world, was gone

The return to the Knight Mansion was a grand affair, but for Zara, it felt like entering a beautiful, gilded prison. Three black SUVs pulled into the winding driveway, their tires crunching on the pristine white gravel. Begum Salma sat in the back of the lead car, her hand resting firmly on Zara’s. She refused to let go, as if Zara were the only anchor keeping her tethered to the world of the living. As the heavy oak doors of the mansion swung open, the staff stood in a perfect line, their heads bowed. Aryan stepped out of the car first, his movements sharp and efficient. He didn't offer to help his grandmother; he simply stood back and watched as the nurses and Zara assisted the elderly woman into her wheelchair. "Welcome home, Begum Sahiba," the head housekeeper whispered. Salma waved her off with a weak but regal gesture. "I am tired. Zara, take me to my suite. I don't want anyone else touching my pillows today." Zara nodded, feeling Aryan’s heavy gaze on the back of her neck.

The gardens of the Knight Mansion were not merely a collection of plants; they were a sprawling masterpiece of botanical art. Hedges were trimmed into perfect geometric shapes, and marble pathways wound through rare flowers imported from every corner of the globe. Yet, despite its beauty, the garden usually felt cold—a silent museum under the watch of a dozen professional gardeners. Today, however, the silence was broken. Zara was wheeling Begum Salma along the sun-dappled path. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine. Zara had let her hair down for the first time since arriving. Usually tied in a strict, professional bun, it now cascaded down her back in dark, wavy silken tiers, catching the golden highlights of the Oakhaven sun. "The air is so much better out here, Begum Sahiba," Zara said, her voice bright. She stopped the wheelchair near a bed of parched-looking roses. The head gardener approached, his hose in hand, but Zara stopped him

The evening sun was bleeding into the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows across the guest wing of the Knight Mansion. Zara sat by the window, her bandaged ankle propped up on a velvet ottoman. For the first time, the luxury of the room felt suffocating.She felt a deep, hollow sadness settling in her chest. It wasn't just Maya’s cruel words from earlier that hurt; it was the realization that she was starting to feel something for a man who belonged to someone else. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom heat of Aryan’s arms carrying her. Every time the door creaked, her heart betrayed her by hoping it was him.I have to leave, she whispered to the empty room. The longer I stay, the more I lose myself. The thought of Aryan’s upcoming marriage to Maya was a weight on her heart that she couldn't explain. She was a law student; she was supposed to be logical. But there was no logic in the way her pulse skipped a beat whenever his name was mentioned.The ArrivalOutside,

After the high-tension breakfast, the mansion fell into a different kind of quiet—the kind that felt like the calm before a hurricane. Zara helped the Begum back to the sunroom, her heart still racing from the way Aryan had held her hand just an hour before. "Do you need anything else, Grandmother?" Zara asked softly, adjusting the silk cushion behind the old woman’s back. Begum Salma patted Zara’s hand, her eyes filled with a warmth that Zara didn't feel she deserved. "No, my child. Tomorrow is your final law exam. You have carried the weight of this house on your shoulders for days; now it is time to carry your own future. Go to your room, study, and do your absolute best. I want to see you in that black dress of the court—a fierce lawyer fighting for the truth." Zara smiled, a genuine spark of hope lighting up her face. "I'll make you proud, I promise." The Heart's Contradiction Zara retreated to the guest wing, locking the door behind her. She spread her heavy law books acros