Same, same but different!

Part 18

Uraz: (clears his throat, forcing a polite smile) Ah… I see introductions aren’t needed after all. Gamze, I told you I’d stop by today. I wanted to meet your boss, finally.

Gamze: (still stunned, eyes darting between them) You… you know each other?

Ömer: (voice controlled but clipped)
We’ve met.

Uraz: (quickly stepping in, tone casual) Once or twice. Business circles are small, after all. I simply wanted to drop by, meet you, and introduce myself properly to Mr. Ünal here.

He turned toward Ömer, his expression smooth, but the glint in his eyes sharp and deliberate.

Ömer: (coldly polite) Consider yourself introduced.

Gamze blinked, completely unaware of the tension between them, that thick, silent current of history neither man was willing to name.

Gamze: (awkward smile) Well, I’m glad you finally met. Baba, we can leave in 20 minutes, Ömer has already given me permission to take the day off.

She left quickly, grateful to escape the strange tension. The door closed softly behind her.

The moment it did, Ömer’s mask slipped. He took a step closer, eyes hard.

Ömer: She doesn’t know. She doesn't know what work you do, does she?

Uraz: (coolly)
No. And I’d like to keep it that way.

He straightened his cuff, pretending nonchalance, but there was steel in his tone.

Uraz: I don’t want her hurt, Ömer Bey. Just like I’m sure you wouldn’t want that for your daughter.

For a second, the room went utterly still.

Ömer’s jaw tightened, his ears literally burned with anger. He took another step closer, lowering his voice until it was low, dangerous.

Ömer:
Don’t. Ever. Speak about my daughter again. If you ever so much as mention her, I'll kill you with my bare hands.

Uraz raised an eyebrow but didn’t move.

For a moment, neither of the men moved. The air felt charged, like the seconds before lightning strikes.

Then Uraz smirked faintly, the kind of smirk meant to provoke.

Uraz: I remember this temper. Careful, Ömer. Anger makes mistakes.

He turned smoothly and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Ömer stood there, muscles rigid, staring at the door long after Uraz was gone. His pulse pounded in his temples, his thoughts tangled between Uraz, Gamze, Kıvılcım, and Aslan’s death threads that suddenly felt far more connected than he wanted to admit.

Ömer picked up his phone and called Can.

Ömer: (speaks fast) Can, I need you too get a few of our bodyguards and put them in front of Mavi's school. Tell them to patrol the area and report to me if there is any unusual activity, but they should not approach her at all. I don't want to scare my daughter.

Can: First take a breath and then tell me what's going on? Is Mavi in danger?

But before Ömer could speak, a knock came at the door. Softer this time.

Ömer: Can I have to go. We'll talk later, just do what I say. (ömer puts the phone down) come in.

The door opened and Metehan stepped in, a faint uncertainty in his stance. He wasn’t his usual confident self, his shoulders were slightly hunched, his expression careful.