Thriller Is money, sex and revenge such things that makes humans animals ?

[Naruto411]

For two days, Layla had been working behind the scenes, doing everything in her power to give Imran and Zainab the time and space they needed. She knew how delicate their situation was, and she was willing to bear the burden of managing Rashid's growing demands to ensure their secrecy. As Zainab’s close ally, Layla had always been fiercely loyal, even if it meant making sacrifices of her own.

Rashid, however, was becoming more demanding by the day. His constant presence at home and his insistence on Layla’s attention made her tasks more difficult. Yet, Layla knew how to manage him. She played her role perfectly—obedient, graceful, always ready to fulfill his requests, even when her mind was elsewhere, focused on the bigger picture.

Layla’s motives for helping Imran and Zainab were always clear in her mind—her loyalty was tied to the safety of her son back in India. Everything she did was for him, ensuring his protection by playing her part in this delicate game. While Rashid believed she was entirely devoted to him, Layla was simply keeping him distracted, playing the role of the obedient and devoted wife so that Zainab and Imran could have the time they needed.

For the past two days, Layla had gone beyond what was expected, enduring Rashid’s growing demands. She acted as if she enjoyed their intimate moments, but deep down, she was calculating each move, knowing that every sacrifice kept her son safe. Whenever Rashid touched her, her mind wandered back to India, imagining her son’s face and reminding herself why she had to endure it all.

The intimacy between her and Rashid became transactional—something she did to keep his focus away from what was really happening behind the scenes. In his office, in the car, and even in hotel rooms, they continued this act. Rashid, oblivious to Layla’s true feelings, assumed her willingness was out of devotion, but to her, it was survival.

During these encounters, their conversations were often casual and focused on business. As Rashid grew more comfortable, he would talk about the family business, the decisions he was making, and the power moves he intended to execute. Layla, always the attentive listener, would chime in, knowing when to speak and when to let him lead. They talked as if the act between them was just another part of their daily routine.

In the hotel room one afternoon, as the sounds of their closeness filled the air, Rashid spoke about the expansion of his business ventures. His voice, mixed with the occasional groan, seemed unaffected by the situation. He detailed his plans for the future, and Layla responded with occasional moans, carefully maintaining the facade that she was equally invested in both the conversation and the intimacy.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />

In the car, while parked discreetly on a quiet street, their moments were brief but intense. Rashid seemed more interested in boasting about his latest business deal than in the act itself. Layla, always quick to adapt, kept up with his words, allowing her voice to rise and fall with the rhythm of the conversation and the situation at hand. Every moan, every response was calculated, masking the truth beneath her composed exterior.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
In the office, their encounters were rushed and hurried, but the pattern remained the same. Rashid would lean back in his chair, his hands busy, while Layla stood at his desk, keeping her movements fluid and natural. As Rashid rambled about a potential partnership, Layla would nod in agreement, her mind elsewhere but her body betraying no signs of discomfort. Each moment was another step in her carefully laid-out plan.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Though their physical closeness continued, there was no true connection between them. Layla's heart remained cold, focused on protecting her son and making sure Imran and Zainab’s secret remained safe. Rashid, too caught up in his world of business and power, never noticed the emotional distance between them.

Layla’s actions were not out of love or desire but out of necessity. She knew that as long as she kept Rashid satisfied and his attention elsewhere, her son would remain safe, and Zainab could continue her secret rendezvous with Imran. For her, every moan, every act of intimacy was a means to an end, a calculated move in a much larger game.