DON'T DOUBT LOVE) loving you no matter what

MAYA'S POV (The Locked Door)

Tahir's panic room had a biometric lock.

Of course it did.

The arrogant bastard probably programmed it to open only for his precious fingerprints.

I pounded on the steel door. "Let me out!"

Silence.

Then, the intercom crackled. "Maya." Tahir's voice, calm as ever. "Stay. Put."

Like I was some disobedient dog.

I scanned the room—no windows, no tools, just a stocked minibar and a 70-inch TV suddenly flashing to life.

Victor's smirking face filled the screen. "Hello, little bird. Let's talk about your mother."

My blood ran cold.

Because behind him, in the hospital bed—

Mum.

AISHA'S POV

Ryder shoved the document in my face. "This changes everything."

The paper smelled like old money and betrayal.

Last Will and Testament of Fatima Hassan.

But the name listed as sole beneficiary wasn't mine. Wasn't Maya's.

Victor K.

"It's fake," I whispered.

Ryder's jaw tightened. "Lawyer's seal says otherwise."

The penthouse shook with gunfire downstairs.

And all I could think was—Mum, what did you do?

TAHIR'S POV

Victor always did overplay his hand.

I watched him on the security feed, waving that forged will like it meant something.

"You lose, Tahir," he gloated. "Even Fatima knew you'd fail."

I adjusted my cufflinks.

"Funny."

A keystroke later, every screen in the building switched to a different video—Victor, six months ago, bribing Mum's lawyer.

The color drained from his face.

"Checkmate," I murmured.

Then Maya's scream tore through the intercom.

RYDER'S POV

Aisha was shaking.

"Why would Mum—"

"She didn't." I pulled up the video Tahir had just unleashed. "Look."

The timestamp was three days after Fatima's last hospital admission.

When she was already comatose.

Aisha's breath hitched. "Victor faked it."

Downstairs, gunfire erupted again.

Tahir's voice crackled through my earpiece: "Ryder. East stairwell. Now."

I hesitated.

Aisha shoved me. "Go!"

For the first time, I realized—she trusted him too.