A year later, at a high-society gala in a restored mansion on the Bosphorus, Elif appeared on the arm of the man who had bought the Gürsan factories. She looked radiant, draped in emeralds bought with stolen blood.
"My sigh is a slow fire, Elif. You’re already smelling the smoke." The Aftermath Д°lker GГјrsan AhД±mda Seni YaksД±n
He pulled a crumpled letter from his coat. It was the only thing Elif had left him—not a goodbye, but a cold, calculated betrayal that had stripped him of his dignity and his family’s legacy. A year later, at a high-society gala in
İlker had been the rising star of the Gürsan textile empire. He was a man of logic, fabric, and hard-earned trust. Elif had been his sanctuary. Or so he thought. While he was building their future, she was dismantling his present. You’re already smelling the smoke