ight breeze. Emir was in his study, surrounded by old papers and faded photographs that carried with them the echoes of a forgotten past. The air was heavy, as if the mansion

ies. The word "accident" sounded like an empty echo to him, too easy an excuse for such a cruel event. Cansu, his grandmother, had planted the seeds of doubt in his heart since he was a child, speaking to him of the Asians as those who had stai

ith a tense expression, almost tangible, reflectin

eight of doubt present in his voice as he looked

the fateful accident. But as he examined it, Emir realized that something didn't add up. The absence of skid marks, the witnesses who had disa

g with restrained fury. "I always knew that man was involved, but now I have it right in

re of uncertainty, his furrowed brow reflect

than simple revenge. Nasuh is the most powerful man in Midyat. U

in a time when they seemed to be friends-almost brothers. He knew he couldn't act blindly; if he wanted justice, he

the depths of the family. Kemal, though removed from the family business, had never lost his contacts or h

th the ground of this place," Kemal said without looking at him, his voi

n the ground, as if he didn't want his

now, uncle. My pati

him directly in the eyes, as if the

royed everything they had built together. Your father feared for his life long before the acci

e pain in his uncle's w

s?" he asked, his voice trembling, as if t

never had proof. That's why she left that letter you found. But there's

a mixture of desperati

gently, almost on the

a moment, his sile

p as a dagger. "She was close to your family at

ould be like searching for a shadow among shadows. But it didn't matter. He nee

of his soul, like a flame consuming the hope of those who might cross his path.