HUMERA MEHBOOB

Imagine a city, not just loud and modern, but haunted. Not by ghosts, but by secrets. Streets where every whisper hides a transaction, and every promise is just a delay before betrayal. Now imagine growing up in a family at the heart of it all. Not a mafia, but something colder. A dynasty of influence. A legacy of silence and shadows. They don’t wear crowns, but they rule. Not through politics or fame, but through something more dangerous: control. You would have everything, luxury, reputation, power at your fingertips. But none of it would be yours. It would belong to the legacy. And what is legacy, if not the golden leash around your neck?

Now, imagine being the only one born into that world who questions it.