Looking For His North Star

Chapter ten

Zuhal Akçali looked up, pulling her hood down, obscuring her face. Then she smiled to herself. She'd been on the run for a week now and the police hadn't even come close to finding her.

Escaping from the hospital had been too easy. During her stay there she'd played her role perfectly. She'd taken her injections without a fuss, answered the psychologist's questions demurely and made herself look as nonthreatening as possible. Even the nurses started loving her because she'd been generous in spending Iqbal's money on the occasional gift to them.

In no time, they'd forgotten why she was there in the first place. After all, she'd been fooling everyone in the mansion for so long and no one had suspected anything.

Zuhal had to admit that the therapy sessions had helped. She no longer had panic attacks and her head felt clear after a long time. Finally she could think without all the voices (including her sister's voice) clamouring inside of her head.

She could think about the next part of her plan of getting rid of that peasant and making Yaman realize how much she loved him. And how much he could love her if he just gave her a chance.

Zuhal pushed her hand into her hoodie pocket, fingers closing around the smooth stainless steel scalpel. She'd swiped it from the resident surgeon's cabin, on the way. She'd gone through his medicine cabinet too but Zuhal realized that many things could go wrong with poisoning the peasant. There wasn't a guarantee that she would die quickly.

Besides, the trash flower seemed to have nine lives like a cat- Zuhal had to go for the jugular. Literally. Let's see if Yaman would still love that girl after Zuhal carved up her pretty face, really deep.

She almost smiled. Bold of Yaman to assume that she would stay in the hospital for the rest of her life. She'd lived through pain and struggle in that hellhole of an orphanage. For twelve years. Then she'd survived prison through all the harassment she'd been subjected to by the other inmates. She'd even come back from the death. They wouldn't get rid of her that quickly.

Zuhal walked down the path and entered the abandoned warehouse. She took out her sister's phone. She had made a point of carrying this phone with her wherever she went, after she'd received it.

Going through this phone, she'd realized what an evil genius Iqbal Kirimli was. During her lifetime, she'd obviously made many important connections- some not so amicable. There were many proofs and recordings stored here, perfect to use as blackmail material. No wonder she'd managed to fool someone like Yaman Kirimli for such a long time.

For the hundredth time, Zuhal cursed those damned nurses for making her spend too much money. But their trust came with a price. That had been Iqbal's one motto- everything and everyone had a price, and Zuhal had been forced to be generous for their co-operation.

Now she had to take a drastic step to find enough money for the next part of her plan.

You spend her money, but she's lying in the grave you'd dug with your own hands...

A tiny voice echoed inside of her mind. Zuhal shook her head.

You killed the woman who put a roof over your head...

"SHUT UP!" Zuhal said angrily.

"Wow..."

Zuhal whirled around, almost dropping her phone.

"I never knew that Iqbal Kirimli's sister was a lunatic who talks to herself!"

A blond man stood there, leaning against the wall. Murat Aydin- the millionaire philosopher who had been a shameless playboy in his youth- at least according to Iqbal's information.