*Constantinople was beautiful in the cruelest way possible.

The moment Mary Tudor arrived at Topkapı Palace, she understood one thing immediately:

Pargalı Ibrahim Pasha controlled everything.

The court moved around him carefully. Viziers watched their words around him. Even silence seemed heavier when he entered a room.

And Mary disliked him at once.

Their first meeting took place during a gathering hosted by Sultan Suleiman.

“You are adjusting well to Ottoman court life, Princess Mary,” Ibrahim said politely.

Mary met his gaze calmly. “I am trying.”

Something about her answer amused him.

“Most foreign guests find our court difficult.”

“Perhaps they are too eager to impress it.”

A few heads turned at that.

Ibrahim smiled slightly, though it never reached his eyes.

From that moment forward, their rivalry began quietly.

Meetings Mary arranged suddenly fell apart. People who supported her became distant. Rumors spread through the palace faster than she could stop them.

And somehow, Ibrahim always seemed aware of everything before she was.

One evening, after another failed negotiation, Mary confronted him alone.

“You enjoy making my work difficult.”

Ibrahim looked up from the documents in front of him calmly.

“You assume too much.”

“Do I?”

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Ibrahim stood, composed as ever.

“You are intelligent, Princess,” he said softly. “But intelligence without caution becomes dangerous in places like this.”

Mary crossed her arms. “Is that advice or a warning?”

His expression barely changed.

“That depends on whether you continue challenging me.”

Mary refused to look away from him.

“And if I do?”

A faint smile appeared on Ibrahim’s face.

“Then Constantinople will become very unpleasant for you.”

After that, the conflict between them stopped being political.

It became personal.*