Nineteen-year-old Layla lived in a world where dreams cost more than bread. A tiny room, a tired mother, debts, the constant fear of tomorrow. She studied, worked odd jobs, hoped to escape — but life showed no mercy.

And then fate opened a door.

At a charity gala, where Layla had been invited to help as a waitress, she caught the eye of Sheikh Rashid — a man with silver hair and eyes that reflected power. He was over sixty, living in a world of palaces and diamonds. She was nineteen, and had nothing but hope.

He offered her luxury, attention, the promise of safety. Her friends whispered:
— This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

And Layla agreed. Not out of love — out of desperation.

The wedding was like an Eastern fairy tale. Gold, rose petals, fountains of champagne. Everything sparkled, everything shone. Except her. Her smile was rehearsed, her gaze lost. But who could notice the sadness behind a veil of diamonds?

When the celebration ended, she was led to her chambers.

The room was from another world: marble, candles, silk cushions. Layla felt like an actress in someone else’s play. She removed her jewelry, breathed in, and stepped out of the bath — ready to begin a new, incomprehensible life.

And froze.

The Sheikh lay on the floor. His face pale, eyes open, arms lifelessly spread.

— Oh my God… — she whispered, and a scream escaped before she could stop it.

Servants rushed in first, then guards, then a doctor. Everyone spoke fast, loudly, while she stood frozen. Soon came the verdict:
His heart. It didn’t hold.

The first night of marriage became his last.

By morning, the world was talking. Some whispered of fate, others of a curse, and some of poison.

So, in one night, nineteen-year-old Layla became the Sheikh’s widow and heir to his fortune. The palace, diamonds, bank accounts — all hers. But along with the wealth came a shadow of suspicion.

Every glance she made, every move she took, was met with whispered murmurs behind her back:
— It’s her. Young, beautiful. He couldn’t endure it.

Layla no longer smiled. In the rooms where music once played, now there was only silence.

Sometimes at night, she heard a distant door slam — as if the Sheikh himself returned to check why she had sold her freedom.

And in the darkness, Layla would whisper:

“I just wanted to live. But it seems I paid too high a price…”