Chapter 1
This is an English translation of the original Turkish novel Eymen: Fransız Çıkmazı. The translation is not professionally edited and may contain minor inconsistencies. The names and their pronunciations are unique to Turkish and are spelled phonetically to help international readers.
Character Name Pronunciations:
Eymen (Ey-men)
Mislina (Mis-lee-na)
Romana Tolis (Ro-ma-na To-lis)
Çağdaş (Chah-dash)
Pamir (Pah-meer)
Volkan (Vol-kahn)
Hasan (Hah-sahn)
We hope you enjoy exploring the dark and twisted paths of The French Dead End.
A few days ago.
The metallic surface of the table felt cold—not just against Romana’s skin, but deep within her soul. Her arms were strapped down, the cuffs tight around her thin wrists, already leaving marks on her pale skin. But she didn’t avert her gaze from Mr. Ferrero.
“How long will it take?” she asked, her voice slow but clear.
Mr. Ferrero approached her with measured steps. His gray suit was perfectly pressed, and even without a tie, he looked impeccable. He looked down at her, his eyes devoid of both mercy and rage—just a cold efficiency, as if not a single second of his time could be wasted.
"Your voluntary involvement in this mission is still greatly appreciated, Madame Tolis," he said, his voice smooth and unyielding. "I have no doubt you'll handle this easily. Once it’s done, you’ll return to your country safely, and our agreement will be complete."
Romana was looking directly at the man with a determined gaze.
“You know it has nothing to do with volunteering,” she replied. “Our agreement... Loyalty has always been one-sided in your book.”
Their eyes met briefly. For a moment, something dark flickered in Ferrero’s gaze. His pupils contracted, the muscles in his jaw tightened. But he said nothing. He merely gestured to the technical team.
A medical device descended from the ceiling. It looked like an MRI arm, only much narrower and quieter. The cold surface was fixed behind her head, not enough to take her breath away, but enough to awaken an old fear deep inside her.
The IV line had been set up earlier. As the drug began to flow into her veins from her left wrist, it felt like icy water coursing through her bloodstream. She shuddered, as if a gust of wind had swept through the sterile operation room. Her vision darkened for a moment, but she did'nt lose control.
“Mr. Ferrero…” she spoke again, slowly. This time, her voice was almost soft, carrying neither resentment nor fear. “I hope everything goes as planned.”
As he left the operation room, the only thing he wanted to hear was the sound of the money he would earn. The screams of agony that cried out his name were of no consequence to him.
What dark secrets lie behind Ferrero’s perfect facade, and how far will Romana go to survive?
