It felt like a trap built carefully around her and the jaws had just snapped shut. Aisha forced herself to sit tall. Even though her hands trembled under the table, she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. But deep down, fear burned through her. She realized with icy clarity that whatever game was being played here, she was the target, and the players were ready to go as far as it took to erase her.

The shouting inside the estate grew louder, voices clashing like thunder. Relatives pointed fingers, some at Aisha, some at each other, but all their anger somehow circled back to her. She sat frozen in her chair, trying to block out the noise when suddenly her phone buzzed against the table. The vibration was sharp, almost startling in the heavy silence that followed another one of Chanda’s accusations.

With shaky fingers, she lifted it and glanced at the screen. A new message flashed before her eyes. Four words. Just four, but enough to make her blood run cold. Leave now. The drink is poisoned. Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, reading it again to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. Poisoned. Her eyes darted to the glass of wine placed carefully in front of her.

She hadn’t touched it, but the thought of what could be inside made her stomach twist. She quickly scanned the faces around the table. No one seemed to notice her panic. They were too busy tearing at each other with words. Her pulse hammered in her ears. The sender’s number was unknown, hidden.

Who would send her such a warning? Was it a cruel trick, or was her life truly in danger? Aisha’s hands trembled slightly as she lowered the phone to her lap, hiding the screen from curious eyes. She forced herself to look calm, though her insight screamed. Then something caught her eye. Through the tall window, just beyond the glass, stood a figure.

Her breath caught as recognition slammed into her. It was him, the same frail homeless man who had stopped her on the street. His clothes were still torn, his posture bent, but his eyes, his eyes were steady and urgent, locked directly on hers. He nodded once, slow but firm, like a signal only meant for her. Aisha’s chest rose and fell quickly.

This couldn’t be a coincidence. First, the warning on the street, and now this message. Who was this man really? How could he know about poisoned wine sitting on her table, hidden in the middle of this chaos? She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she realized he wasn’t just some random beggar with wild words.

He was connected. He was watching over her. Her mind raced with questions, but one thought drowned out the rest. If she hadn’t listened, if she had taken even a sip from that glass, she might not have lived long enough to hear the will. Her stepmother laughed coldly at something across the table and Aisha’s stomach twisted.

Was she the one behind it or Chanda still shouting with too much passion? The noise of the room faded for a moment as her focus stayed on the man outside the window. He wasn’t moving away. He stood tall, his eyes telling her he knew the truth and he wanted her to trust him. The world thought he was broken, invisible. But in this moment, Aisha understood.

He carried a secret powerful enough to save her life. The lawyer’s voice shook as he read through the pages, the sound of each word echoing across the silent hall. Everyone leaned forward, waiting for the moment they had all come for, the part of the will that revealed who would control the biggest share of the fortune. Mr.

Bond reached for another folder, fumbling nervously as if the weight of it burned in his hands. Papers spilled across the table, and among them, a sealed envelope slipped free and fluttered to the floor. The lawyer bent quickly to pick it up, but the damage was already done. The envelope had opened slightly, and a file slid out for everyone to see.

Aisha’s eyes caught the bold letters at the top, DNA results. For a moment, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But then, Mr. Bonda froze, his face pale as he read the words. Whispers spread like fire, growing louder as the relatives caught sight of the paper. He cleared his throat, his voice breaking as he spoke.