Rashed's hand was still wrapped tightly around Mehrin's wrist.
No—
Ariba.
The name kept echoing inside her head as if someone were kicking at an old locked door, trying to force it open.
The woman had disappeared into the dark passage ahead.
The men chasing them were closing in from behind, their flashlights cutting through the tunnel walls.
And in the middle of it all stood her—
a broken identity wearing someone else's name.
Rashed's voice trembled.
"Decide. Right now."
Something inside Mehrin's chest shook.
She closed her eyes for one second.
Inside her head, every voice began crashing together—
"You were never Mehrin…"
"Target linked to missing child: Ariba."
"Your father did not run to save you… he ran away with you."
"If you want the truth, follow me…"
But then—
from behind, a shout echoed through the tunnel—
"They're ahead! Get the lights on them!"
Rashed didn't waste another second.
He grabbed Mehrin's arm and pulled her hard into a narrow hollow section beside a low pipeline.
"Get down," he whispered.
Mehrin pressed herself against the wall and crouched low. Rashed positioned himself in front of her, shielding her with his body.
In the next second, three beams of flashlight swept past the main tunnel just beside them.
Footsteps.
Curses.
Metallic echoes.
One of the men said—
"She couldn't have gone far. Split up."
Another voice answered—
"We need the girl alive. She's the key."
The words froze Mehrin's blood.
She's the key.
That meant—
this wasn't only about her past.
Even now—
she was still at the center of something.
Still the key to something dangerous.
Rashed turned back toward her and spoke very quietly.
"We can still go after that woman if you want," he said. "But remember one thing—she'll never give you the full truth in one piece."
Mehrin slowly lifted her head.
"And you will?" she asked, her voice edged with ice.
Rashed fell silent.
A bitter stillness settled between them.
"No," he said at last. "I don't know everything."
"But you know a lot."
"Yes."
"And you still stayed silent."
Rashed looked away.
"If I had come to you on the first day and said, 'Hi, your name isn't really Mehrin, someone's hunting you, and I used to work for them'—would you have believed me?"
The question made Mehrin pause for one moment.
No—
she wouldn't have believed him.
But that didn't erase what he had done.
It didn't erase what he had hidden.
"So what were you doing?" she asked in a low voice. "Getting close to me. Breaking my life apart. What were you really looking for?"
A hard shadow passed over Rashed's face.
Then he answered quietly—
"Your buried memory."
Mehrin's heart thudded hard.
"What do you mean?"
"They believed," Rashed said, "that when you were a child, you saw something. Something more dangerous than any file. More important than any report, any witness statement, any document."
"What did I see?"
"I don't know," Rashed whispered. "But everyone is afraid of one thing—if you remember it, a lot of powerful people will fall."
The words shook her more than the freezing tunnel air.
Had she really seen something that important?
Something that made people hunt her for years?
Something that had forced them to bury her identity?
To hide her?
To use her?
Then—
another image flashed violently across her mind.
This one was clearer than before.
A large house.
White marble stairs.
A chandelier glowing downstairs.
A child's feet running.
Then—
a deep male voice shouting—
"Take her upstairs! Now!"
Then a woman's voice—
"No, she saw it—"
Then suddenly—
the sound of glass shattering.
Mehrin clutched her head with both hands.
"Ah—"
Rashed moved toward her immediately.
"What happened?"
"I… I saw something…" her voice trembled. "A house… big… white stairs…"
Rashed's eyes sharpened.
"What else?"
"Someone said… 'she saw it'…"
Rashed's jaw tightened.
"That means you were there."
"There where?" Mehrin asked, breathing hard. "At what?"
Rashed pressed his lips together.
Then, slowly, he said—
"The night you became the missing child."
The ground seemed to shift beneath Mehrin again.
"Did I…" her lips trembled. "Did I see someone die?"
Rashed did not answer immediately.
And that silence was more terrifying than any word.
Distant footsteps echoed again.
Rashed whispered,
"We need to move."
"Where?"
"There's an old boiler room at the end of this tunnel. There should be a side exit there. It leads to the hospital service yard."
"And that woman?"
Rashed looked at her.
"Do you really want to follow her?"
Mehrin didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
But she knew one thing—
that woman carried lies, but also the key to the truth.
And Rashed carried regret, but not enough answers.
So which path was safer?
The woman who had given her a false identity?
Or the man who had entered her life as a mission, but now seemed desperate to save her?
Both roads felt poisoned.
They moved carefully through the tunnel.
Water dripped from the old pipes.
The passage was so narrow that rusted metal scraped against their shoulders as they walked.
Then the tunnel widened slightly.
A heavy iron door stood ahead.
Above it, faded letters read—
Boiler Maintenance
Rashed slowly pulled the handle.
The door creaked open.
Inside was an old boiler room.
Huge.
Dark.
Dusty.
Broken with age.
Only one hanging light still flickered weakly overhead.
A massive rusted boiler stood in the center of the room, surrounded by old pipes, levers, and metal shadows.
And—
standing at the far side of the room—
was the woman.
Mehrin's heart lurched.
It was as if she had already known they would come here.
The woman looked completely calm.
The silver pendant was still in her hand.
A faint smile rested on her lips.
"I knew you would come," she said.
Rashed immediately stepped in front of Mehrin.
"Stay back."
The woman gave a soft laugh.
"You still enjoy pretending to be her bodyguard, don't you?"
"You're not getting what you want," Rashed said coldly.
"I?" the woman arched a brow. "I only want to give her the truth she deserves."
"You don't give truth," Rashed said. "You use it."
For one brief second, something cold flashed in the woman's eyes.
Mehrin did not miss it.
She stepped forward slowly.
"I want answers," she said.
The woman turned her full attention toward her.
"Then ask."
Mehrin forced herself to stay steady despite the dryness in her throat.
"Is my real name really Ariba?"
The woman paused.
Then answered—
"Yes."
One word.
But with that one word, everything Mehrin had believed herself to be began to shake.
"Whose daughter am I?"
The woman's faint smile disappeared.
Then she said—
"That is the most dangerous question of all."
"Answer it."
"The man you have been searching for as your father raised you—
but he is not the man who brought you into this world."
Mehrin's entire body went cold.
"What?"
Rashed turned sharply.
"Stop. Don't tell her that now."
The woman looked at him.
"Are you afraid?" she whispered. "Or do you know that once she hears the answer, she will leave even you behind?"
Rashed's jaw tightened.
And Mehrin understood—
there was something even bigger here.
Something far worse than she had imagined.
She looked directly into the woman's face.
"Who are my birth parents?"
This time, the woman slowly held up the pendant.
On one side of it was a tiny engraved letter—
A
Mehrin's breath trembled.
The woman said—
"This pendant was around your neck that night."
"What night?"
"The night you were made to disappear."
Another memory struck her like lightning—
she was hiding under a bed.
Footsteps outside.
A woman crying.
A man shouting—
"Get her out of here!"
Then—
a gunshot.
Mehrin staggered back, pale.
"No…"
"You're starting to remember," the woman said softly. "Good. Because time is running out."
"What happened that night?" Mehrin asked, almost shaking.
The woman answered slowly—
**"That night, a family was destroyed.
A name was erased.
And a child was hidden under a new identity."**
"Why?"
The woman's eyes turned cold.
"Because you were not born into an ordinary family, Ariba."
Mehrin's heart slammed against her ribs.
"What do you mean?"
The woman stepped one pace closer.
Her voice dropped lower.
Sharper.
**"The people you've been searching for are not only rich.
They are not only powerful.
They are the kind of people who can rewrite truth, erase records, make the dead appear alive… and make the living disappear forever."**
A cold wave swept through Mehrin's body.
"Then… what kind of family was I born into?"
The woman answered very slowly—
"You were born into a war."
The room fell silent.
"What kind of war?"
"Money. Power. Inheritance. And…" she paused,
"the existence of a child."
Mehrin's lips went dry.
"Mine?"
The woman nodded.
"Yes. Because if you remain alive—many people's claims become lies."
For a few seconds, Mehrin could not understand what she had just heard.
Then suddenly—
a thought struck her like lightning.
"Then… they wanted me dead?"
The woman held her gaze.
She did not say yes out loud.
But her eyes did.
The air locked inside Mehrin's chest.
She wrapped both arms around herself.
All these years—
the life she had thought was simply a story of loneliness, betrayal, and heartbreak—
had actually been a planned erasure.
A child had been removed from the world and forced to live under another name.
A cold rage rose from somewhere deep inside her.
"My father…" she said in a trembling voice. "The one who took me away—did he save me?"
For the first time, the woman hesitated.
Then she said—
**"He took you away.
But why he took you away… you still do not know."**
"What does that mean?"
"Sometimes people take someone to save them.
Sometimes they take someone to keep them for themselves.
And sometimes…"
she leaned in slightly,
"someone takes a child away as proof."
Everything inside Mehrin stopped.
Proof?
Was she not a person to them—
but evidence?
A living piece of evidence?
Rashed could not stay silent anymore.
"Enough!" he snapped. "You're tearing her apart."
The woman slowly turned toward him.
"I'm tearing her apart?" A poisonous smile touched her lips. "You entered her life, used her, and stood on the ruins of her trust."
Rashed's face hardened.
And for the first time, Mehrin felt it clearly—
this wasn't only about her past.
There was something older.
Something personal.
A war between these two that had started long before her.
"You knew each other before," she said.
Neither of them answered.
That silence was answer enough.
"How?"
The woman smiled very slightly.
"Because once," she said,
"Rashed worked for me."
The room turned to ice.
Something inside Mehrin collapsed all at once.
She slowly turned to look at Rashed.
This time, he didn't lower his eyes.
But the pain on his face was more naked than she had ever seen it.
"Is that…" her voice was breaking, "is that true?"
Rashed answered very slowly—
"Yes."
One word.
And with that one word, all the strength in her body seemed to vanish.
"You…" her lips trembled, "you came to me… for her?"
Rashed said nothing.
"Answer me!"
"Yes," he said at last, closing his eyes for one second. "At the beginning… yes."
Something inside Mehrin was ripped open.
This was it.
The most brutal truth of all.
The man she had once loved—
the man for whom she had swallowed her pride, her identity, her pain—
had started as an assignment.
A mission.
A form of surveillance.
Her vision blurred.
But she did not cry.
No.
There was no room left for tears now.
Only a freezing emptiness.
"Then what are you now?" she asked quietly.
Rashed looked at her.
There was a fracture in his eyes that could not be acted.
"Now…" his voice was heavy, "now I'm the man who realized too late that while I was searching for you… I lost the last living part of myself."
Something inside her trembled.
But it wasn't trust.
It was pain.
And pain did not heal that easily.
Then—
heavy footsteps thundered from outside the boiler room.
A man shouted—
"They're in here!"
The woman's eyes narrowed.
"They're not my people," she said coldly.
Rashed looked sharply at her.
"What?"
"It means," she said, "the game you think only the two of you are trapped in… has more players on the board."
Mehrin's chest tightened again.
More?
Then the men chasing them were not even hers?
How many sides were there?
How many lies?
How many truths?
Everything became even more tangled.
The woman suddenly held out the pendant toward Mehrin.
"Take it."
Mehrin stared at it.
"Why?"
"Because it belongs to you."
"How do I know that?"
The woman leaned in slightly.
For the first time, something flickered in her eyes for just one second.
Sorrow?
Or regret?
"Because," she said very quietly,
"That night, I failed to save you."
Something inside Mehrin shook.
"Who are you?"
This time, the woman didn't answer.
Instead, she pressed the pendant into Mehrin's hand.
At that exact moment—
a violent blow slammed against the boiler room door.
BANG!
Again.
BANG!
Rashed immediately pulled Mehrin toward him.
"We have to go!"
"Where?" Mehrin asked, breathing hard.
The woman pointed toward the wall behind the old boiler.
"There's an emergency shaft behind that panel. It leads down to an old drainage exit."
Rashed shook his head immediately.
"No. It could be a trap."
The woman gave him a cold look.
"You can stay here and die if you prefer."
Another crash hit the door.
The metal lock shook violently.
Rashed understood.
There was no more time.
He looked at Mehrin.
"The choice is yours."
Inside her chest, a thousand things collided at once.
Rashed's betrayal.
The woman's half-truths.
Her father's letter.
The name Ariba.
The pendant.
Her lost memories.
And then—
the sharp edge of the pendant nicked her finger.
A tiny cut.
But when one drop of blood touched the engraved A—
a faint click sounded.
All three of them froze.
The engraved letter A slowly shifted open.
Inside—
was a tiny folded piece of paper.
Mehrin's heart stopped.
The woman's eyes widened in shock.
"That's impossible…" she whispered.
Rashed said immediately—
"Open it!"
With trembling fingers, Mehrin pulled the tiny note out.
Unfolded it.
There was only an address.
And beneath it, only three words—
"She is alive."
Mehrin's breath caught.
"She is alive…" she whispered.
But—
who was she?
Her mother?
Another missing child?
Someone who was supposed to be dead?
The woman's face changed instantly.
For the first time, she looked genuinely afraid.
"No…" she whispered. "That wasn't supposed to be there…"
Mehrin lifted her head sharply.
"You didn't know about this?"
Before the woman could answer—
CRASH!
The glass panel above the boiler room door shattered.
Flashlights burst through.
Shouts followed.
Time was over.
Rashed shouted—
"Move!"
He grabbed Mehrin's hand.
The woman stepped back and pulled open the iron cover of the emergency shaft.
Below it—
only blackness.
Deep.
Unknown.
And above them—
the breaking door.
The pendant in Mehrin's hand.
Her father's recorder in her bag.
A new address burning inside her mind.
And inside her heart—
a new question rising like fire.
If "she" is really alive… where has she been all these years?
Then—
the door burst open.
And as flashlight beams flooded the boiler room, a familiar male voice roared—
"Ariba!"
Mehrin's entire body froze.
She knew that voice.
No—
it wasn't Rashed.
It wasn't her father.
And it wasn't one of the men from the tunnel.
That voice—
she had heard it years ago, in childhood.
Something exploded inside her head.
And at that exact moment—
the woman whispered—
"Jump down… or they'll take you again."