Leyla's lips curled into a victorious smirk. Gotcha.
She had spent so long feeling powerless, trapped in Ozan's grasp, but now… now she had something over him. His weakness. His reaction to that one word was proof enough.
She fluttered her lashes, tilting her head coyly. "Oh? And what exactly would happen, Daddy?" she teased, letting the word roll off her tongue deliberately.
Ozan's grip on her chin tightened slightly, his jaw clenching. His eyes—usually filled with arrogance and control—now held something raw, something dark.
"You're playing a dangerous game, karıcığım (my wife)," he warned, his voice husky.
Leyla only giggled, leaning back into her seat, pretending to be unaffected. If he can play games, so can I.
For the first time since this forced marriage, she felt like she had an upper hand. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.