When Ateş Yamanoğlu saw the message, he shifted from his relaxed position at the desk, leaning slightly forward. Then he leaned back, letting out a deep breath. The corners of his lips twisted into a sly smile. The image on the screen had captured his full attention; the woman's pain, mixed with fury, had turned into a half-naked challenge.
He murmured with pleasure:
"You're playing with fire, little sparrow… But that's fine by me. I wouldn't extinguish the fire — I'd much rather burn you within it."
Just as he was about to type a reply, a notification popped up in the corner of the screen, distracting him. His eyes narrowed, and a mischievous smile appeared.
"This message was deleted."
He let out a hearty laugh — deep, confident, and slightly threatening.
"So, your reason is still working, beautiful…" he said to himself. "But it's too late now. The fire has been lit, and now it's time to set you ablaze."
He closed his laptop. Like a hunter savoring the scent of his prey's fear, he was satisfied. The rules of the game were clear now: the prey had revealed herself. Now it was time to leave a mark she would never forget.
Meanwhile, Arzu, trying to gather her alcohol-clouded mind, noticed the mistaken message on her phone. Her eyes widened in horror. A scream echoed inside her:
"Please don't have seen it! Please God, let no one have seen this mess…"
In a panic, she deleted the message, racing against time. She jumped up, running her hands through her hair, pacing around the room in distress.
"You're pathetic, Arzu! Grown woman — look what you've done!" she muttered to herself, sighing.
Just then, a notification sound startled her. Her heart clenched, and her trembling fingers dropped the phone to the ground.
"He replied! Oh no, he definitely replied! He must be calling me cheap, disgusting, shameless…"
She struggled between ignoring it and her burning curiosity.
"Should I block him? But what if he calls? I kind of owe him an explanation..."
With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and opened the notification. Her eyes grew even wider.
"I believe this message was sent to the wrong person."
That was it. No scolding, no snide remarks. Cold, straightforward, and surprisingly polite.
"This man… is truly something else," Arzu thought.
She immediately replied:
"I'm really sorry. It was a total mistake. I apologize if I bothered you."
She collapsed onto the couch, resting her head back. Her heart was still pounding, but at least the apocalypse hadn't come.
As her eyes fluttered shut, another notification came.
"With such a delightful sight, it's impossible to feel bothered. I hope I get to see the real thing one day."
Arzu narrowed her eyes. Her lips curled in a contemptuous smile.
"Disgusting bastard. Opportunist," she muttered — yet found herself smiling slightly despite herself.
"At least he didn't call me shameless," she grumbled, typing a short final message:
"Good night."
This time, she set the phone to silent and left it on her bedside table. After a night filled with shame, flirting, and chaos, the hope for a peaceful sleep finally seemed within reach.
Or so she thought.
One drink, okay, maybe two… then three…
By the end of the night, Arzu had tried to resist the storm raging inside her — the suppressed desires, the shattered pride — by drinking. But that resistance had crumbled after just a few glasses.
It was one of those surreal drunken moments where time seemed to stop. She squinted at a new notification, trying to make out the letters:
"Pho… to… graph?"
She blinked, then opened the photo.
And was instantly stunned.
Ateş — or Yaman, as Arzu knew him — had sent her a shirtless picture, much like the one she had accidentally sent.
But this was no ordinary male photo.
This was a masterpiece of human form. Broad, triangle-shaped shoulders. Perfectly sculpted abs. And those divinely carved V-lines…
"Oh my God…" she muttered, swallowing hard.
"If you're a man, then what was I married to all these years?" she giggled to herself.
A laugh escaped her lips before she quickly tried to regain her composure.
"No. No, Arzu, get it together. You're still married. That jerk cheated on you, sure. But legally, you're still married. This is wrong."
And yet, her eyes were still glued to the screen. The picture was still open. The walls of her self-control were beginning to crack.
The soft, lively melody from the stereo filled the room. Her body started moving to the rhythm. First a head bob, then a foot tap. Before she knew it, she was dancing.
She peeled off her socks. Lifted her skirt. Climbed onto the coffee table and danced.
It was a reckless rebellion against betrayal, suppressed desires, and lost years.
And then, driven by a foolish impulse, she picked up her phone again. She recorded herself dancing.
Muttering:
"Here you go, Mr. Yaman... returning the favor… hehe."
But there was so much she didn't know about the man she had just sent that video to.
In reality, Ateş Yamanoğlu was one of Istanbul's most powerful and feared mafia leaders.
Yet to Arzu, he was still just "Yaman the car dealer."
And that night, the small spark ignited by a wrong message was about to become a wildfire.
But nothing was over yet.
The real game was only just beginning.
Arzu was still staggering, trying to suppress the storm raging inside her, unaware of where her feet were carrying her. She collapsed onto the couch, rubbing her face with trembling hands; her conscience flailed inside her, while every fiber of her body pulled her toward rebellion.
"No, I can't. I'm still married... I mean, I'm getting divorced, but... legally, I'm still married. And we haven't even kissed yet…"
Her voice cracked, each word dripping with shame. With every sentence, she seemed to shrink in her own eyes. Maybe... maybe if she weren't this drunk, she wouldn't be this honest.
Just then, Ateş's voice from the phone cut through all her inner turmoil:
"I don't give a damn about the law. You're divorcing that jerk anyway.
And by the way—you're the one saying we haven't kissed yet.
Tonight, I'm going to kiss you more than enough.
I'll be there in ten minutes."
His words hit her like a punch—not to her heart, but to her knees.
Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. Panic, excitement, shame... everything was a tangled mess inside her.
"Wait a second! But no! I'm a lawyer! The law... matters!"
Her voice broke again, the words scattering in the air.
Ateş's laughter rumbled over the line, turning into a commanding growl:
"To hell with your law! Want me to break down the door?"
Arzu glanced around the house in a panic.
"No way! You can't break it! It'll be too noisy!"
Then, almost whispering to herself, she mumbled:
"Wait... I'll handle this another way."
Her feet carried her upstairs.
She stumbled into her office, legs still shaky but her mind oddly determined.
She opened her laptop, dragged the chair out, and sat down heavily.
Drawing a deep breath, she steadied her fingers over the keyboard.
Ateş, still on the line, asked in a voice that was both firm and teasing:
"What are you doing now? What are you trying to handle?"
Arzu hesitated.
Then she murmured:
"Shhh… don't distract me…"
Her fingers danced across the keyboard, mumbling to herself:
"Case number... parties have reached an irreparable breakdown... date of marriage... property regime... 'severe incompatibility'... claim for damages..."
Yes.
This drunken woman was now typing up her own divorce petition, line by line.
Ateş fell silent for a moment... then burst into laughter.
"You... are insane!
But you're exactly my kind of crazy, woman.
You're the first person in my life to write a divorce petition before even kissing."
Arzu kept typing, squinting at the screen, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.
"Shhh... hush. I need to finish this. I have to submit it."
And with that, she hung up the call.
Ateş...
He was already starting his car engine.
Tonight was no ordinary night anymore.
It was the beginning of a new kind of madness.