chapter 1 : The price of power

imagine her as sana

zayan ahmed

The weight of her father’s words settled over her like a heavy storm cloud.

“You’re getting married, Sana.”

Sana Mirza sat frozen in her seat, her fingers tightening around the armrest of the chair in her father’s grand study. The room smelled of mahogany and old money, the air thick with the scent of power—a power that had just been used to dictate her future.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, but her face remained unreadable. Years of being Azlan Mirza’s daughter had taught her how to mask her emotions. Yet, nothing could prepare her for the name that followed.

“Zayan Ahmed.”

The name alone sent a chill down her spine. She had heard of him—everyone had. A man of unyielding control, ruthless in business and even more so in his personal dealings. A man who spoke in clipped sentences but whose silence held more weight than words. A man she had never met yet instinctively despised.

Her father leaned back in his chair, watching her reaction carefully. “The engagement is finalized. The wedding will happen in four weeks.”

Sana’s nails dug into the leather of her chair. “And if I refuse?” Her voice was steady, but the flicker of defiance in her gaze did not go unnoticed.

Azlan Mirza exhaled slowly, tapping a gold ring against the surface of his desk. “You won’t.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a decision.

And just like that, her fate was sealed.

The silence in Azlan Mirza’s study was suffocating. The walls, lined with shelves of expensive books and antique decor, felt like they were closing in on her. Sana Mirza had always known her father was a powerful man, but tonight, she truly felt the weight of his authority.

An arranged marriage. To Zayan Ahmed.

The name alone carried a storm of rumors—stories whispered behind closed doors, spoken in hushed voices in business circles. Ruthless. Unforgiving. A man who built his empire on fear and control. The kind of man who didn’t take no for an answer.

Sana clenched her jaw, forcing herself to maintain the icy exterior she had perfected over the years. “Why him?” Her voice was steady, but her mind was anything but.

Azlan leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze never leaving hers. “Because power only respects power. The Mirza name may command influence, but the Ahmeds… they own the world you live in.”

Her stomach twisted. She had heard of Zayan Ahmed before. His name was etched into every conversation that spoke of dominance in business. He was a king in his own right, and now, she was being handed over to him like a piece in a power play.

Her father continued, his tone firm. “The merger between Mirza Industries and Ahmed Corporation will be sealed with this marriage. There is no room for argument.”

Sana’s fists clenched in her lap. “And if I refuse?”

Azlan’s lips curled into a cold smirk. “You won’t. don't make me repeat"

There it was again. That absolute certainty. That silent warning beneath his words. Her father was not a man to be defied.

The air in the room grew heavier as Sana fought against the suffocating reality closing in on her.

Across the City, in the Ahmed Mansion…

Zayan Ahmed stood by the window of his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand, untouched. The city stretched before him, bright and alive, yet none of it held his interest.

His phone vibrated on the glass table beside him. He didn’t have to check the screen to know who it was.

Rafay Ahmed.

His father. A man now confined to a hospital bed in London, yet still managing to pull the strings of his life.

Zayan let out a slow breath before answering. “Speak.”

A deep, authoritative voice came through the receiver. “The wedding is in four weeks.”

No preamble. No attempt at softening the blow.

Zayan’s grip tightened around the glass. “And if I don’t agree?”

A dark chuckle echoed through the phone. “Then I will ensure the Mirzas never see the light of day again.”

Zayan didn’t flinch. His father’s threats meant little to him. He had built his empire without needing anyone’s approval. But this was different. This wasn’t about business. This was personal.

Marrying Sana Mirza was nothing short of a punishment, wrapped in the guise of an alliance.

He had seen pictures of her—elegant, poised, but there was fire behind those dark eyes. She was not the type to bow

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