Episode 8
## Episode 8: Bitter Taste
**Narrated by Dilara Aslan**
I used to think danger had a face — the face of a stranger in a dark alley, a thief in the night, a villain in a story.
But that morning, danger wore a white blouse.
And poured orange juice into my glass.
---
Breakfast in the Aslan household was a ritual. Even with our lives crumbling around us, Selma insisted.
"Your mother always believed in starting the day with peace," she said.
I nearly laughed.
What peace?
We had just uncovered a hidden room. A journal. A truth so sharp it could cut through marble.
Alihan sat beside me, unusually silent. His eyes flicked toward Selma every few minutes. He didn't trust her anymore — maybe never had.
Neither did I.
But we needed her.
---
"Did you ever read her journal?" I asked, my tone casual.
Selma's hand paused mid-air.
"No," she said too quickly. "Your mother didn't share her thoughts."
"She shared them with someone," Alihan said flatly. "Because she was scared."
Selma looked at us both, her expression unreadable.
"Some ghosts are better left asleep," she said.
I took a sip of the juice.
It tasted bitter.
My throat tightened.
My vision blurred.
"Alihan…" I croaked, grabbing his arm.
"Dilara?"
The glass fell from my hand and shattered on the floor.
---
Everything spun.
The ceiling stretched and twisted. My chest burned. My hands went numb.
"Call an ambulance!" Alihan screamed, catching me before I hit the ground.
Selma stood frozen, her lips parted — not in shock. In calculation.
I saw it.
In her eyes.
She knew.
---
Sirens. Lights. Voices echoing through tunnels of pain.
I drifted in and out, the hospital ceiling flickering like a broken TV screen above me.
"Dilara Aslan?" a voice called.
I wanted to speak.
I wanted to scream.
But I couldn't move.
---
When I woke up again, the room was quiet.
Alihan sat beside me, head in his hands.
He looked up the second I moved.
"You're alive," he said hoarsely.
"Barely," I rasped.
He held a paper cup to my lips. Water never tasted so sweet.
"They said it was poison," he muttered. "A slow-acting nerve toxin. Someone planned it. They were careful."
My stomach turned.
"Selma?"
Alihan's jaw clenched. "She's gone. Disappeared before the ambulance arrived."
Of course.
---
"She tried to kill me," I whispered.
Alihan nodded. "And she nearly succeeded."
---
He pulled something from his pocket — a napkin, folded three times. Inside it: a white pill.
"I found this on the kitchen floor," he said. "Under the counter, near the tray."
"Do they know what it is?"
"They're running tests. But Dilara… if you hadn't taken the first sip…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
---
I closed my eyes.
My father lied.
My mother ran.
Alihan returned.
And now… someone wanted me dead.
---
"I don't think this is about inheritance anymore," I whispered.
Alihan leaned closer. "Then what is it?"
"I think someone's afraid of what we're about to uncover."
---
Later that night, the doctor came in. "We're keeping you under observation for 48 hours," she said. "The dosage was just low enough to spare your heart."
"How lucky," I muttered.
Alihan stayed with me. He didn't leave once.
At 3 a.m., the nurse brought a sealed envelope.
"There was no sender," she said. "But it was addressed to you. Left at the front desk."
Alihan opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was a single photo.
A man in shadows.
A gun.
And on the back, one line:
**"Leave the house — or you'll leave in a coffin."**
---
**To be continued...**
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> ⚠️ **Next on Episode 9:**
Alihan sets a trap to uncover Selma's allies — while Dilara, still recovering, receives a visitor from her past who knows the truth about her father's fortune… and her real last name.