“You think I am joking.”

Chapter Three

Asli paced back and forth on the limb, cursing her foolishness. She still could not believe she had let her enemy get the upper hand, landing a shot that now throbbed with pain. Maybe she believed it now but she couldn't bring herself to accept it.

Face to face and gun to gun, she replayed all the ways she could've taken him down. Why had she hesitated? Why hadn't she pulled the trigger when she had the chance?

Those questions wouldn't leave her head. She kept asking herself over and over again. If anyone learned about this, she wouldn't survive the humiliation. She knew he wouldn't keep quiet about it either. First time facing each other and he landed a gun wound on her; the infamous lady boss.

Mrs. Ferry's voice broke into her thoughts, laced with concern. "Lisa, what happened? You bled on stage."

Asli's mind raced as she concocted a hasty lie. "I...I fell during a rehearsal." Her hesitation didn't go unnoticed, and Mrs. Ferry's eyes narrowed.

"That's a lot of blood for just a fall, unless... unless it was from a height and that, you and I know you wouldn't be alive." Mrs. Ferry's voice trailed off, her suspicion written all over her face and in her tone.

"Let it go!" Asli's patience wore thin, her irritation boiling over. "I'm warning you, Mrs. Ferry, don't push me further."

But the manager persisted, her voice laced with concern. "Lisa, I need to know what happened. What if you had collapsed on stage? We're lucky you finished the performance. Do you—"

Asli's anger erupted her words like venom. "I'll cut off your fingers and feed them to you if you don't back off! Do you want to know how I got hurt? Maybe it's none of your business!"

Mrs. Ferry took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise, but her decision to have her confide in her remained. "You're at it again with your empty threats, Lisa. Cut off my fingers? Really?" She scoffed, but her voice trembled slightly, betraying her fear.

Asli sneered, her frustration mounting. "You think I'm joking! Do you think I'm just a pampered artist who can't take care of herself? You're stuck on me like glue, always prying, always questioning. Can't you just leave me alone?" This was the most she had spoken to anyone.

Mrs. Ferry's expression softened, her eyes filled with a deep understanding. "Lisa, I'm only trying to help. I've watched you grow into the talented artist you are today. I care about what happens to you, on and off stage."

Asli's anger faltered, her gaze dropping away from Mrs. Ferry's piercing eyes. How did she get stuck with this woman who thought she needed anyone to care for her?

Asli's thoughts drifted to the stark contrast between her two worlds. In the spotlight, she had fans, a manager, and a nanny who cared about her well-being.

But in the shadows of the Mafia, injuries were mere scratches, and lives were expendable. No one bothered with feelings or empathy, only the mission mattered.

Mrs. Ferry's murmurs broke into her thoughts, and Asli's gaze narrowed. "You know I can hear you," she said, her eyes piercing the older woman.

If only the older woman knew the truth – that she was not Lisa but Asli. That she was a skilled assassin, numb to the value of life.

To this woman in front of her, she believed she belonged to this world; a singer, a performer. They were all but a disguise that brought her a strange sense of comfort.

Mrs. Ferry continued, oblivious to Asli's secrets. "You hear the slightest noise. You're so talented, Lisa. Sometimes I think you're in the wrong profession. You'd make a great detective!"

Asli's patience wore thin. "Can we leave now? I need to see my doctor." She cut Mrs. Ferry short, her tone firm.

The manager's expression turned stern. "Yes, and I'm supposed to know everything about you, including your doctor's identity. I'm your manager, Lisa. What will the CEO think when he finds out you're seeing a mysterious doctor behind my back?"

"Keep at it, and you'll never see me again," Asli warned, her eyes flashing with a hint of danger.

Mrs. Ferry's lips tightened, familiar with Asli's penchant for disappearing when pushed too far.

Just then, a call pierced the tension, and Asli's hand instinctively went to her pocket. Her expression darkened as she saw the caller ID - her adoptive father.

She answered with a reluctant "Hello, sir." Though he'd raised her, he preferred formal titles - "boss," "Mister," or "sir" - over familial affection. Asli never dared to address him as "father" or "dad."

Everyone had someone they feared, no matter how fearless they seemed. For her, that someone was this man on the phone.

"I heard there was a shootout at the warehouse. Your warehouse," he growled, his voice dripping with displeasure while he stressed in the 'your'. "I lost men, and you didn't think it was necessary to inform me?"

Asli's face scrunched in confusion. There were no men on site, so how and when did Ahmet manage to kill them? She had left him hiding, and out of bullets. Had he come prepared to take over the warehouse, her warehouse?

"You know I'm an impatient man!" her father bellowed, his anger piercing through the phone and setting her nerves on edge.

Her instincts screamed to lash out, to strangle someone - anyone - to release the tension building inside her.

She knew better than to reveal her ignorance about the dead men. Her father's reaction would be catastrophic, either way.

So, she chose a middle ground, carefully crafting her words. "I managed the situation, but the men might have arrived after I left. They weren't—"

"Are you saying you left an enemy in your territory during a battle? Did you flee?" her father's voice rose in disbelief and anger.

Asli's mind raced as she concocted a lie. "No, he was badly wounded." The words tasted bitter on her lips.

"But how did he manage to kill our men, then?" her father's outrage boiled over.

She hesitated, buying time. Her tech guy had erased the scene, but she hadn't prepared for this specific question. "He might have called for backup after I left," she improvised.

"Then why didn't you finish him off?" her father's disgust was screaming in his tone.

Her anger simmered, her mind flashing back to the story the man told her about the brutal murder of her family, her real family. She had plans for Ahmet, plans that didn't involve a quick bullet. "No, I have plans for him," she spat, her voice low and venomous.

Just then, a tiny voice in her head whispered, 'He shot you,' and her adoptive father's voice teased, "Are you growing soft?" snapped her back to reality.

"Soft?" Asli's eyes flashed with anger at the word, her mind seething with resentment. Who was her father to question her toughness or strength? If anyone else had dared ask, she would've pulled the trigger without hesitation.

But she bit back her retort, instead opting for a cool, calculated tone. "The three men who ran off with the shipment three days ago, I have them in your basement."

Her adoptive father's acknowledgment was curt. "You caught them. Good." The line went dead, and Asli's anger simmered anew as Ahmet's face resurfaced in her mind.

"I guess the doctor can wait," she muttered. She hated lies and yet she told one. "That stupid guy owes me a couple of gun wounds, a knife wound perhaps." She needed to keep up the lie she told, for her ego's sake.

With a quick change into a new outfit, Asli left the changing room, resuming her other identity.

Her car was packed outside the auditorium. She slid into the driver's seat and hit the gas, speeding away from the venue as she searched for a number on her phone.

"Call the guys and meet me at the warehouse. Now." She sent the command, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

The city blurred by as she pushed the car to its limits, her mind filled with strategies and plans. Ahmet wasn't going to get away Soe easily.