Chapter 1: The Fall of Iskender
5 Years Ago
The sun had just begun its climb over Istanbul's sprawling skyline, casting golden hues over the Bosphorus. Iskender Yilmaz stood on the balcony of his luxurious penthouse, sipping freshly brewed Turkish coffee from a delicate porcelain cup. The aroma mingled with the crisp morning air, a ritual he cherished every day.
The city stretched before him, a bustling testament to ambition and perseverance. It mirrored his journey, from a young man with nothing but a sharp mind and relentless determination to one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Turkey. At 39, he had built an empire—a conglomerate of companies that dominated sectors ranging from logistics to tech startups. His name was synonymous with success, respect, and influence.
Inside, his wife, Leyla, hummed a tune as she set the breakfast table. Leyla was the epitome of grace and beauty. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes always held a spark of warmth, and her laughter was the melody that kept Iskender grounded amidst the chaos of business.
"Iskender," she called, her voice soft but insistent, "if you don't come now, the simit will get cold."
He smiled, setting the cup down on the table. "I wouldn't miss your simit for anything."
As they sat down to eat, Leyla poured him a glass of fresh orange juice. "You've been working too hard," she said, concern lacing her words. "Murat told me you've been staying late at the office almost every night."
Iskender chuckled, breaking a piece of simit and dipping it into cheese. "Murat exaggerates. You know how he is. Besides, we're finalizing a big deal. Once it's done, I'll have more time to relax."
Leyla reached across the table and took his hand. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. We've built this life together, but none of it matters without you."
He nodded, squeezing her hand. "I promise."
---
At the office, the atmosphere was a mix of efficiency and sophistication. Iskender's headquarters, housed in a sleek glass tower, was a reflection of his personality: sharp, modern, and imposing. Employees greeted him with deference as he walked through the corridors, his tailored suit exuding authority.
Murat Yilmaz, his younger brother and business partner, was already in his office. Murat was the opposite of Iskender in many ways—charming and gregarious, with a knack for networking. The brothers were a formidable team, their synergy propelling the company to new heights.
"Good morning, Abi," Murat said with his usual smile, leaning back in his chair.
"Good morning," Iskender replied, placing a folder on Murat's desk. "I've gone over the projections for the new logistics hub. It's ambitious, but if we pull it off, it'll be a game-changer."
Murat skimmed through the documents, nodding appreciatively. "You never miss a detail, do you?"
"That's why we're where we are," Iskender said with a hint of pride.
They spent the next few hours discussing strategies and reviewing reports. To the outside world, the Yilmaz brothers were an unbreakable duo. Iskender's meticulous planning complemented Murat's people skills, making their partnership seem invincible.
---
That evening, as Iskender drove home, he felt a rare sense of contentment. The city lights sparkled like jewels, and the air buzzed with the energy of endless possibilities.
Leyla greeted him at the door, her smile a balm to his weary soul. Together, they shared a quiet dinner, talking about everything and nothing. Later, as they sat on the couch with a glass of wine, Leyla rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're happy, aren't you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I am," Iskender replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Life is good. I have you, I have Murat, and the company is thriving. What more could I ask for?"
---
But beneath the surface of this idyllic life, cracks were beginning to form.
In the weeks that followed, Iskender noticed small anomalies—delays in payments, projects stalled without explanation. At first, he dismissed them as the growing pains of a rapidly expanding business. But then Murat brought him the folder that would change everything.
"Abi," Murat said that fateful evening, "we need to talk."
Those words marked the beginning of the end.
As Iskender flipped through the documents Murat had given him, a chill settled over him. The discrepancies were too large to ignore. Someone was stealing from the company, and it wasn't just petty theft. This was systematic, deliberate, and devastating in its scope.
"We'll get to the bottom of this," Iskender assured Murat, though unease coiled in his gut.
For weeks, Murat and I dug into the accounts, chasing shadows. Every lead we followed seemed to end in a deadlock. I trusted Murat implicitly; he was my brother, my partner, the one person I believed would always have my back.
But I was wrong.
---
It was a chilly Tuesday evening when the nightmare began in earnest. I was at home, seated at the dining table with my wife, Leyla. She was radiant as always, her dark hair framing her face in soft waves. The smell of her homemade mercimek çorbası lingered in the air.
"How was your day?" she asked, reaching for my hand.
"Busy, as usual," I said with a faint smile. "But I'm making progress on the issue Murat found. I'll get to the bottom of it soon."
She squeezed my hand. "I know you will. You always do."
Before I could respond, the doorbell rang, its chime unusually sharp in the stillness of the evening. Leyla rose to answer it, and moments later, she returned, her face pale. Behind her, two uniformed police officers entered the room.
"Mr. Iskender Yilmaz," one of them announced, his voice cold and authoritative, "you're under arrest for embezzlement."
My world tilted. I shot to my feet. "What? There must be some mistake!"
Leyla clutched her chest. "Iskender, what's going on?"
"I don't know!" I turned to the officers, my voice rising. "This is absurd. I haven't stolen anything from anyone!"
"We have evidence," the officer said, his tone unyielding. "You have the right to remain silent."
"Evidence?" I scoffed. "This is ridiculous. Who filed these charges?"
"Your business partner, Murat Yilmaz," the officer replied, without a hint of hesitation.
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. "Murat? No… there's no way."
Leyla's eyes darted between me and the officers, her confusion giving way to doubt. "Iskender, tell me this isn't true."
I turned to her, desperation creeping into my voice. "Leyla, you know me. I would never do something like this."
But she stepped back, her expression unreadable. The officers grabbed my wrists and cuffed me, the cold metal biting into my skin.
"Please, Leyla," I pleaded as they began to drag me toward the door. "You have to believe me!"
Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.
---
The trial was a farce, a carefully orchestrated show where the evidence was stacked against me. Murat sat in the gallery, his face a picture of solemnity, while I fought tooth and nail to prove my innocence. My protests fell on deaf ears. Every document, every account statement pointed to me as the culprit.
When the verdict came, the judge's words echoed in my ears. "Five years in prison for embezzlement."
I stood in shock as the gavel struck, the finality of the sentence sealing my fate.
---
Weeks passed, each day in the suffocating cell chipping away at my hope. Then, one afternoon, Leyla came to visit. I was overjoyed at first, rushing to the glass partition with a desperate smile.
"Leyla, thank God you're here," I said, picking up the phone.
She hesitated before lifting her own receiver, her eyes red and puffy. "Iskender, I don't even know who you are anymore."
Her words were a knife to my chest. "Leyla, you have to believe me. I didn't do this. Murat set me up!"
"You expect me to believe that your own brother would betray you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he's been stealing from the company," I said, my voice firm. "And he needed a scapegoat. Please, Leyla, you know me better than anyone. I could never—"
"Stop," she interrupted, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this. I can't keep lying to myself. I'm filing for divorce."
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "Leyla, don't do this. Please. I need you."
She stood, placing the receiver down. "Goodbye, Iskender."
I slammed my fists against the glass. "Leyla!"
But she was already walking away.
---
Weeks later, the guards brought me a newspaper. The headline read: "Murat Yilmaz Marries Leyla Kara."
My vision blurred as I read the article, detailing their "unexpected romance." The betrayal was complete. My brother had stolen my life, my company, and the woman I loved.
As I sat in the darkness of my cell that night, the walls closing in around me, I made a vow.
"This isn't over," I muttered to myself, my voice a growl of determination. "I'll make them pay for what they've done. One day, I'll return, and they'll learn the true meaning of betrayal."