Dalleliyar was truly a wealthy woman, worth at least millions. She drove into a magnificent mansion in Gagara— a house that truly lived up to its name. It had everything imaginable. The compound housed about eight luxury cars, all expensive and elegant. Four white cars were lined up on one side, while others of different colors were parked elsewhere. There were also three costly motorcycles of different brands, along with two premium bicycles meant for the rich.

The house was well-designed, adorned with flowers everywhere. Once inside, one would never want to leave. Even the gate was unique—rarely seen in the country. The furniture inside was fit for governors’ mansions.

A young man stepped out of a black car. He struggled to get out—Wow! He was incredibly fair-skinned, almost like an Arab, with a reddish glow as if touching him would draw blood. He was tall but not excessively so, with a well-built body—neither too slim nor too bulky. His sharp facial features included a striking nose—not too long—while his jet-black hair was styled in a trendy, modern cut. The sides were shaved, with a thin strip left at the top, bleached to a bright white. His well-groomed beard complemented his strong jawline, and his piercing, bright eyes lazily blinked with a mysterious charm.

Anyone who looked at this young man could tell he was drowning in luxury. Wealth and comfort radiated from his entire being. He wore stylish, ripped gray jeans, paired with a half-white, half-blue designer T-shirt. His expensive shoes and wristwatch glowed, while his fingers bore a silver ring.

He walked unsteadily, moving with both grace and a hint of intoxication. His staggered steps suggested he had indulged in something strong. Leaning on the wall for support, he eventually reached his lavish sitting room and collapsed onto a couch—without even removing his shoes—muttering incoherently until sleep took over.

He slept through the night, only waking up when daylight streamed through his windows. As the bright morning sun hit his face, he slowly opened his sleepy eyes and groaned, feeling exhausted. With difficulty, he sat up, dragging himself toward his upstairs bathroom, where he spent a long time showering. Cleanliness was his nature.

After stepping out, he wrapped himself in a towel and faced the mirror. His collection of premium men’s colognes and body oils was neatly arranged. He applied a scented lotion, followed by a luxurious body spray, before slipping into a crisp, white, oversized designer jalabiya—he never wore tight ones because he found them uncomfortable. Spraying more perfume, he grabbed his expensive phone and scrolled through it before descending the stairs with his signature confident walk.

Opening the door, he stepped outside, wearing white flat shoes. He strolled leisurely through a corridor—truly, this house was extraordinary. The courtyard’s floor tiles, in black and white, gleamed under the sunlight.