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[20.1 K+ Words ]
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"Why are you so unserious, Arini? Do you even understand how it felt when that officer put handcuffs on your hands? And you didn't even look at us. Not once. Were you possessed or something? And that sister, aka best friend of yours, keeps bossing around when you aren't here. We joined hands, got married, decided to take revenge together, and you just keep doing random stuff on your own and making everyone worry."
His voice had been going on for the past ten minutes.
No pause.
No breath.
Honestly, he should have been a rapper. The way he kept going without inhaling, it was impressive. I sat there listening, arms folded, trying to hold back a reaction while he paced in front of me like a prosecutor building a case.
I rolled my eyes slightly. "Who got worried now?"
He stopped pacing. Looked at me.
And then his voice rose, not yelling, but thick with something far more dangerous.
"I was worried, goddammit. I don't care if anyone else was worried or not. But my partner suddenly getting arrested by the police made me worry, you stubborn woman."
The word partner lingered in the air.
It was not just about revenge anymore. Not just about strategy. It was about us.
"Aksh—"
"Don't 'Aksh' me now," he cut in immediately, stepping closer. "You didn't want to tell me the plan, fine. I respected that. But at least you could've looked at me once. Just once. Blinked once or twice. That's it. A sign that it was your plan. I wouldn't have asked for reasons. I don't need reasons. Just give me a sign before doing something that puts you at risk."
His chest was rising heavier now. Not from anger. From fear he refused to admit directly.
"Arey suno toh—"
"Mujhe nahi sunna kuch bhi!" he snapped, frustration spilling over. "Do you even realize how I feel when you pull these stupid stunts that involve risk to you? Do you realize anything? Or is everything just entertainment for you?"
That was it.
"SHUT UP, AKSH!" My voice cracked through the room.
I had listened to him for fifteen minutes straight. Every accusation. Every frustration. Every protective instinct disguised as anger.
Enough.
"Main kuch nahi bol rahi toh tum bole jaa rahe ho. Bole jaa rahe ho," I said, standing up from the edge of the bed.
He immediately stepped forward and pushed me gently but firmly back down to sit.
"Toh kya sirf tum bologi aur jo mann mein aayega karogi? Listen, Arini. If you make reckless decisions and surprise me with them on a random morning, then you have to face the reaction of that surprise as well. So keep quiet."
I stood up again. "I won't stay quiet. Mera muh hai. Main chahe jo bolun."
He pushed me back onto the bed again, jaw clenched. "Stay quiet for once, woman."
"No, I won't."
I stood up yet again, refusing to back down.
He grabbed my shoulders to keep me still. I shoved him away instantly, heat sparking between us. My fingers caught his collar and I pushed him back toward the bed, not to hurt him but to create space, to win the argument physically since words were failing.
He retaliated.
It became a chaotic push and pull, neither of us willing to surrender even an inch. In that struggle, the back of his leg hit the edge of the bed. He lost his balance, falling backward onto the mattress.
And because his hands were still gripping my shoulders, I lost mine too.
I fell. On top of him.
The mattress dipped beneath us. Silence swallowed the room.
Our faces were barely an inch apart. Bodies pressed together. His hands still on my shoulders. My palm still gripping his collar.
Our breathing heavy. Our eyes locked.
Not speaking.
But arguing.
Through gazes.
His anger wasn't loud anymore. It had softened into something raw. Something exposed. Something that looked dangerously close to fear.
And mine? Mine was still fire. Not the kind that flickers and fades, but the kind that burns steady, unapologetic, refusing to be dimmed by anyone's voice, even his.
And how dare he order me to keep quiet?
The audacity of that command still rang in my ears, louder than his earlier lecture. I was not someone to be silenced. Not by enemies. Not by the world. And definitely not by the man who stood beside me as an equal.
"From when did you become scared of anything happening to me, huh?" I shot back, my voice sharp but controlled. "We were rivals. This marriage was for convenience. Strategy. There wasn't any clause that says one must reveal all plans to the second person. And besides, I don't demand answers from you about what you're doing or plotting."
Each word carried weight. Each sentence was a reminder.
We were partners by decision, not by weakness.
He did not step back.
"Because I don't make reckless plans and make others worry," he replied, his tone lower now, less explosive but more honest. "And if you think I am scared, then yes. I am scared. I was scared that day too, when you were trapped in Churu. You keep doing crazy stuff like a cat, like you have a few extra lives stored somewhere in case something goes wrong."
His jaw tightened after saying that. Like admitting fear cost him something.
THE AUDACITY.
I let out a dry laugh, disbelief written all over my face.
"Oh really? Then I must have returned from New York with a bruised body, and I might have gotten kidnapped a few days before our wedding, right? Wrong. It was you, Aksh. You make others worry. You disturb my plans sometimes too."
My voice did not shake. But my eyes did not soften either.
He paused.
Just for a second.
And in that second, silence stretched between us like a thin wire ready to snap.
Truth is brutal, my partner.
I raised my eyebrows slowly, crossing my arms. "What happened, Mr. Caring Husband? Nikal gayi hawa?"
The corner of his jaw twitched. I tried to get up, deciding I had won this round, when suddenly his fingers wrapped around my wrist.
Before I could react, he flipped our positions in one swift movement. The world tilted. The mattress dipped. And now he was hovering over me, pinning my wrists on either side of my head.
"What the fuck!"
My back hit the mattress, my hair fanning out against the sheets. His face was closer now, his breath warm, uneven.
"Fine," he said, his voice calmer but intense. "I take my words back. We both do reckless stuff. But I am still not backing off from this. You need to tell me. Or don't tell me everything. Just give me a small, bare minimum sign that it's your plan and not someone else's stunt against you. Let me know that you're prepared for whatever is going on."
His grip was firm. But not hurting. Or else I would've killed him .
"I am always prepared for—"
"I haven't completed yet," he cut in, eyes narrowing slightly.
I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. "Then what are you waiting for?"
He stared at me like I had just insulted his entire existence.
And then, slowly, his fingers loosened around my wrists. "And I am sorry."
The words landed softly. Too softly for someone like him.
Wow.
It sounded so good from his mouth.
I could have thrown him off in seconds. One sharp knee to his side, a calculated move, and I would have been free. But I reminded myself he was my ally, not my enemy.
So I stayed. And enjoyed the victory.
But guess what? I got a sorry.
And I would make him repeat it. Just because I can.
I raised one eyebrow, a faint smirk forming. "I didn't hear you properly. What did you say?"
He kept looking straight into my eyes. Unblinking.
"I said I am sorry for that entertainment comment. I was just..."
His voice trailed.
What was the entertainment comment again?
I genuinely forgot.
But pretending to remember would make this more interesting.
I nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, okay. Now get off me. You're very heavy."
He chuckled as he pushed himself up, moving away from me.
"Yeah? I saw kaise tumne uss din un guards ko utha kar patka tha. Now I am heavy, huh? Jhoothi."
I shook my head slowly, trying to steady the storm inside me, and walked towards the closet with measured steps. My fingers brushed past the neatly arranged fabrics as I spoke, my voice calm but layered with something far more dangerous beneath it.
"Since you said sorry that heartfully, let me tell you something important. You need to do everything with extra focus from now on, because someone is actively trying to tarnish our images, and they are not amateurs."
I pulled open the drawer and leaned against it, letting my words sink in before continuing. "The accusation of murder was not random. It was calculated, planned, and timed perfectly. The media had already been set up in Mumbai, stationed around my office and near the police station before I even stepped out of the car. It was a trap, a carefully designed beginning to a fake rumour campaign. Paid. Scripted. Executed."
"So I flipped the board," I added, turning to glance at him over my shoulder, my eyes sharp. "I bought the land where that police station had been built. And instead of letting the Mumbai police handle it, I made sure the Rajasthan police took action."
The power shift had been intentional. Strategic. Ruthless.
"Now the media will reach here tomorrow," I continued, pulling out a comfortable night suit and placing it on the bed. "And by tomorrow, my PR team will already have their narrative ready. The case will not just end with me being proven innocent. It will end with the spotlight shifting somewhere else entirely."
I turned fully to face him then, watching his expression carefully. "That SI you saw today? He was not acting alone. He is working with someone else, secretly, against me. And my motive to go to that station was never to defend myself. It was to catch him red handed."
There was a pause, thick and heavy.
I picked up the night suit and added in a steady voice, "Tomorrow's court proceedings will be handled by Chhavi and Anu di. After that, the SI will be handled by Aakarsh."
And me.
He asked quietly, his brows furrowing, "Did Aakarsh also know?"
I shook my head in no. "Anu di will tell him later."
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. Yes, that damned human knows everything.
Jo mere dimaag me chal raha hota hai, vo insaan uske aage ka soch raha hota hai.
He hummed thoughtfully, absorbing it all.
I changed into my night suit slowly, letting the cool fabric settle against my skin. The weight of the day clung to me, but routine was my anchor. I completed my skin care methodically, each motion controlled, precise. Then I picked up my phone and laptop and walked toward the balcony. This time, I locked the door from this side.
Not out of fear. Out of discipline.
The rule is simple. If I spend the day planning wars, I spend the night building empires. There is no alternative for success. Time management is not a choice in my world. It is survival.
That green eyed creature kidnapped me yesterday like a menace, and because of that my workload doubled. People think power is glamorous. They do not see the sleepless nights stitched behind it.
I turned on my devices, the screen light illuminating my face in the dark balcony. I slipped the airpods into my ears and the world narrowed down to strategy and sound.
The first thing I did was call Chachu.
He picked up within a few rings. "Hmm. Continue."
I let out a soft chuckle. "Yesterday Aksh massaged my head, and I have no idea what it did to my system, but I fell asleep early. And this morning I woke up only when you called."
I did not tell him how Aksh had made me lie down, how his fingers had lingered longer than necessary. Apart from Anu di, if Chachu knew that detail, Aksh's life expectancy would reduce drastically. And I genuinely do not have time to manage internal assassinations when external enemies are already lining up.
He hummed. "And about that case?"
I leaned back into the chair, staring at the dark sky. "It is a stupid stunt by one of our enemies to tarnish my image. But it is handled. Everything is under control."
Silence.
Then he spoke, his tone shifting slightly. "Arini... try to return to Mumbai tomorrow after the court hearing and judgement. Something happened here as well."
Of course it did.
My life has officially turned into a never ending reality show. One day passes peacefully and the next episode brings a fresh disaster.
"What happened there?" I asked, my voice tightening.
He replied, "Varika's hand got fractured. She also has minor injuries on her forehead."
For a second, the world went blank.
"WHAT?" The word tore out of me before I could stop it.
He continued calmly, "She went on a trip and returned with a broken forearm and a swollen head."
My grip tightened around the phone. "But what exactly happened? How did she get this hurt?"
He sighed. "You know your sister, Aaru. She is not like you. She did not tell anything to Bhabhi either. Come back soon and ask her yourself. By the way, her phone is also damaged. So give her a new one."
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to breathe evenly. My mind was already running possibilities. Accident. Push. Setup. Coincidence. Nothing in my life happens randomly anymore.
"I will not be able to return tomorrow," I said, steadying my tone. "But I will return the day after tomorrow for sure. And Chachu... can you submit her leave application to her college for two months? I know she did not tell you anything, but she might be upset with the situation."
He nodded. "I will go there tomorrow."
After talking for nearly half an hour, discussing small details and instructions, I ended the call.
The balcony felt colder now.
But I did not allow emotions to sit for long. I opened my laptop again, fingers moving over the keyboard with mechanical precision. Office files. Emails. Financial approvals. Strategic drafts.
Because in my world, even when your sister is injured, even when your father is in coma, even when enemies plot your downfall, even when your heart trembles for a moment, you do not stop.
You adjust. You plan. And then you strike back harder.
Arini was sitting comfortably on the front bench of the courtroom, her back perfectly straight, shoulders relaxed, and chin lifted just enough to reflect quiet dominance.
Her eyes were sharp, scanning every movement in the room, every whisper exchanged between the lawyers, every restless shift of the media seated behind.
There was no nervous tapping of fingers, no anxious glances at the judge. Instead, there was an almost dangerous calm wrapped around her like armor.
And that smirk.
That faint, knowing, almost sinful curve of her lips that did not scream arrogance but whispered certainty. It was the expression of someone who had already seen the ending of this story and was simply waiting for the others to catch up.
Chhavi stood tall in the center, voice steady, tone razor precise.
Proof after proof was presented, layered one over another like bricks building an unbreakable wall around Arini.
Documents were projected. Call records were displayed. Financial trails were traced. Each time the opposition attempted to object, Chhavi countered with another document, another timestamp, another undeniable fact.
The courtroom atmosphere shifted gradually.
From accusation to confusion.
From confidence to discomfort.
And then came the final move.
Anavika entered with them.
A woman in her mid forties, pale and trembling, and two young men who looked both ashamed and exhausted.
The wife and sons of the deceased Akhil Singh.
The same Akhil Singh whose body, unknown to the world, was slowly decomposing in Aakarsh's private graveyard.
The irony would have been poetic if it were not so dark.
The mother's voice shook as she spoke, her hands clasped tightly together. She confessed that they had been forced to sign those papers at gunpoint. Someone had threatened them, cornered them, and dictated every statement that had been filed against Arini.
Her sons confirmed it.
They also revealed the hidden truths about Akhil Singh. His illegal dealings. His connections. His cruelty that had been carefully masked from the public eye.
The courtroom murmured. Journalists scribbled faster.
The opposition lawyer's face drained of color.
And through all of it, Arini sat there sipping her Electrol drink, as if she were attending a mundane seminar instead of her own murder trial.
She even adjusted the straw calmly, taking small, composed sips like the most innocent woman to ever exist on this planet.
Her eyes did not flicker once.
Not even when the judge declared her innocent.
Not even when murmurs turned into louder discussions.
Not even when the order was passed for the investigation of the SI's involvement.
By the time the gavel struck, the narrative had flipped completely.
The same SI who had smirked at her in the station now stood pale, sweat lining his forehead, as orders for lifetime imprisonment were announced for corruption, evidence tampering, and criminal conspiracy.
Justice had not just been served. It had been humiliated publicly.
Arini rose from her seat smoothly, adjusting her shirt as if she had just finished a regular meeting. Cameras outside were already flashing. Bhavya had done her part perfectly. The PR team spun the narrative with precision, portraying Arini as calm, cooperative, and unjustly targeted.
Within hours, public sympathy began tilting in her favor. By the time she returned to the palace, the storm had settled.
Almost.
Around three in the afternoon, sunlight streamed through the palace windows in golden streaks. The family gathered in the living hall, relieved, talking in softer tones now.
Arini stood near the staircase and announced gently, "I'm going to the temple to thank God for everything."
Her tone was soft, respectful, believable.
Aakarsh stepped forward casually. "I have some work outside. I'll drop her."
It sounded ordinary. Routine. Domestic.
Only they both knew the truth.
She was not going to any temple.
And he did not have any work.
The glance they exchanged lasted barely a second. But it carried weight.
Purpose.
They walked out together. Not toward prayer.
But toward unfinished business.
[Warning for readers : There will be mention of brutal torture and mature content. You may skip this and move to next POV if you're not comfortable.]
The car stopped in front of an abandoned building that looked forgotten by time itself. Its cracked walls were stained with dampness, shattered windows staring like hollow eyes, and rusted iron gates hanging slightly open as if silently inviting darkness inside.
The air around it felt heavy, thick with secrecy and something far more sinister.
Arini stepped out first, her heels clicking sharply against the broken concrete, echoing in the stillness. Aakarsh followed beside her, his expression calm, unreadable, almost bored, as if this was just another errand on an ordinary day.
But the guards lining the entrance knew better. Black clad men stood in disciplined rows, guns held firmly in their arms, heads lowered the moment Arini and Aakarsh walked past them.
No one dared to look up. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
They entered the main hall, and the faint metallic smell in the air mixed with damp dust made the atmosphere suffocating. Dim yellow lights hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows that stretched unnaturally across the cracked floor.
And there he was.
A human body hung upside down from the ceiling, legs tightly bound with heavy iron chains, veins in his forehead bulging due to the blood rushing to his head. His uniform was torn, his face bruised, and his once authoritative presence reduced to nothing but a trembling, restrained figure.
It was the SI.
Arini tilted her head slightly, clicking her tongue in mock disappointment.
"Tch. Tch. What is this behavior, guards? This is how we treat a police officer, huh?"
Her tone was theatrical, almost playful, as if she were scolding children for poor manners.
Aakarsh scoffed quietly at her dramatics, crossing his arms as he leaned against a pillar.
He knew this tone. It was never a good sign.
Then Arini's smile changed. The softness vanished. Her eyes turned glacial, and her voice dropped several degrees colder.
"Why are his hands open?" she asked slowly, each word precise and controlled.
"Tie them as well. Tighten the chains so his legs remain fully stretched."
The guards obeyed instantly, securing his wrists and pulling the chains tighter until the SI groaned in pain, his body straining against the pressure.
Arini dragged a metal chair across the floor and placed it directly in front of him. The scraping sound echoed sharply, making him flinch. She sat down gracefully, crossing one leg over the other as if she were beginning a polite interview.
"So now tell me, Mr. Officer," she began softly, her eyes locking onto his.
"How does it feel, huh? This is how rapists treat women. They tie their hands and legs forcefully, strip them of control, strip them of dignity."
Her voice trembled, but not from weakness.
From fury and pure rage.
"And since you supported them," she continued, leaning slightly forward, "I thought why shouldn't you experience it yourself?"
She chuckled lightly, almost as if she had forgotten something important.
"Oh... I forgot to add," she said, raising a finger thoughtfully.
"They gag the mouths of women too. Just like yours right now."
She leaned back again, exhaling slowly. "You must be wondering how you got here, right?"
Her smile widened faintly.
"Let me tell you. Just like you faked documents and manipulated evidence of victims, I did the same with yours. I faked your death. Signed by doctors. Stamped properly. By evening, your 'dead body' will be delivered to the station."
His eyes widened. For the first time, fear replaced anger.
Arini signaled a guard casually, and the cloth gag was removed from his mouth.
The SI immediately screamed, veins straining, voice cracking. "I WILL KILL YOU!"
Arini scoffed softly, unimpressed.
"Seventy eight women," she said calmly.
"Whom you intentionally denied justice to. Seventy eight complaints you buried. Seventy eight cries you ignored."
Her gaze hardened.
"And I promise you, these seventy eight minutes of your life will be the most painful ones."
She paused briefly, her voice lowering even more.
"And let me remind you, I haven't even counted the men and poor families you crushed. Otherwise, the number would have crossed two hundred."
He opened his mouth again, rage and desperation mixing in his expression, but she raised her hand to silence him.
"Uh huh," she interrupted coldly.
"Do not use that filthy mouth unless it is to tell me who was behind all this. Who is that new girl who joined hands with Bratva?"
He spat toward her direction weakly. "You will never get to know her."
Arini stared at him for a second. Then she smiled.
"Not the right words," she said softly. "Gag him again."
Within seconds, the guards moved, tying the cloth tightly across his mouth once more.
Arini stood up and turned toward Aakarsh.
"Jiju," she asked lightly, almost teasingly, "what do you think we should do to him?"
Aakarsh, who had been calmly replying to his wife's message on his phone, looked up with detached indifference.
"The same as we do in the realm," he said flatly.
He turned to the guards, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Remove his organs one by one. First chop off his fingers, then his wrists. Detach his limbs. Dissolve them in acid in front of his eyes."
He continued as if discussing business logistics. "Call the medical team. They can perform a practical organ removal procedure on him."
The SI's muffled screams echoed desperately.
Arini's eyes lit up with something disturbingly fascinated.
"Woah," she murmured softly.
"I missed this for the past two years."
She clapped lightly once, amused. "It will be fun. Proceed."
The guards prepared instantly. Metal trays were brought forward. Tools arranged. Acid containers placed nearby.
Arini moved her chair a little further back, crossing her legs again comfortably. She pulled out her phone and opened social media.
The chaos outside had completely settled now. The PR strategy had worked perfectly. Public opinion was shifting in her favor. Sympathy posts were trending.
She scrolled casually while faint, horrifying sounds began echoing in the hall.
Her face showed no discomfort. No hesitation. Only quiet satisfaction.
Justice, in her world, was never gentle.
And tonight, it was personal.
After a couple of minutes, the metallic sound of tools meeting flesh echoed faintly in the hollow building. The air grew heavier, thicker, filled with the sharp sting of chemicals and something far more primal. One by one, his upper limbs were detached, handled without hesitation, without ceremony. They were thrown into a transparent container filled with acid.
The liquid hissed the moment flesh touched it, bubbling violently as it began to dissolve skin, muscle, and bone into a grotesque blur.
Because he was hanging upside down, his swollen, tear filled eyes were forced to witness everything from a distorted angle. The world spun for him, not metaphorically but literally, as his own body melted before his vision.
Tears streamed endlessly from his eyes. Not dignified tears. Not silent ones.
They were desperate, helpless tears that mixed with sweat and blood and fell onto the cracked floor beneath him. His muffled screams trembled against the cloth gag.
But apart from him, no one in that room felt even an ounce of mercy.
The guards were expressionless, trained into emotional numbness.
Aakarsh stood calmly, his face carved from stone, watching without excitement and without disgust.
And Arini?
She closed her phone slowly and placed it back inside her purse. Then she rose from her chair, her heels making slow, deliberate sounds as she walked closer to him.
She tilted her head slightly, studying his face as if examining a specimen in a laboratory.
"Aww... what happened?" she asked softly, her voice dipped in mock concern.
"Is it painful?" She leaned a little closer, her eyes locking into his trembling ones.
"But aren't men like you the ones who say that if a woman is getting raped or harassed, she should just lie down and enjoy it?"
Her lips curved faintly.
"Trust me, I saw your like on that post."
The humiliation in his eyes deepened.
Not just pain. Exposure.
His hypocrisy stripped bare.
Then her expression hardened again.
"Then you should also enjoy this violence happening with you," she said coldly.
"Because this is just the beginning."
She stepped back and looked toward one of the guards.
"Begin with his foot and lower limbs."
The guard nodded immediately. He moved forward without hesitation, gripping the restrained leg firmly. Finger by finger, bone by bone, the process began again.
The sound was slower this time. Deliberate.
His body jerked violently against the chains, the metal clanking loudly from the ceiling. The veins in his neck strained, his muffled screams growing hoarse.
And then, one by one, the severed parts were dropped into another transparent container filled with acid.
The liquid reacted instantly.
Bubbles rose violently to the surface, releasing thin smoke that curled upward into the dim lights.
His tears fell faster now.
His breathing ragged.
His strength fading.
Yet Arini did not blink.
She stood there, arms folded now, watching not as a sadist but as a judge delivering a sentence that had long been overdue.
There was no joy in her eyes.
Only calculation.
Only memory.
Seventy eight women.
Seventy eight stories.
This was not just rage.
This was repayment.
And she intended to make sure he felt every second of it.
Once all his limbs had been detached and reduced to nothing more than dissolving shadows inside acid filled containers, the hall fell into a strange, heavy silence. The bubbling sound of acid eating away what remained of his physical strength echoed like a slow ticking clock.
His body, now nothing more than a bleeding torso suspended in chains, swayed slightly with every shallow breath he forced into his lungs.
Arini watched him for a long moment. Not with anger.
Not even with satisfaction. But with the cold assessment of someone deciding whether a tool still held value.
She lifted her fingers slightly and signaled one of the guards. The gag was removed again. The cloth fell damp and stained to the floor.
He gasped immediately, dragging air into his lungs in broken, uneven pulls. His head hung forward, hair matted to his face with sweat and blood, his voice no longer carrying arrogance, only exhaustion.
Arini stepped closer, heels echoing faintly.
"You have one last chance," she said evenly.
"One last chance to earn a slightly easier death."
Her tone did not rise. It did not threaten.
It simply stated a fact.
"Once the medical team arrives," she continued, her eyes steady on his trembling face, "even if you tell me everything about Bratva, I will not stop anything. So this is your final opportunity to be useful."
The word useful hung in the air like a verdict.
He had almost no strength left. His breathing was ragged, lips pale, eyes unfocused. Yet he forced himself to speak.
"The... Bratva... new girl..." His voice cracked painfully. "It's... half truth."
Arini's eyebrow lifted slowly.
Aakarsh shifted his weight slightly, giving the man his attention for the first time since the process began.
"Interesting," Arini murmured. "Go on."
He swallowed, wincing as the movement alone caused him agony.
"There are... two people," he whispered. "Two who joined hands with Bratva."
He coughed violently, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth and dripping down his face.
"One... went directly to their head office. Met them personally. The other..." He struggled for breath again. "The other joined hands with someone who has a direct link with Ikhail."
Arini's gaze sharpened instantly at the name.
"And the second one?" she asked calmly. "Who is the girl? Name. Identity. Anything."
He shook his head weakly. "No one... saw them. No faces. No names. No one saw any of them."
His head fell forward again as another wave of blood escaped his mouth.
His strength was gone. His usefulness exhausted.
Arini looked at Aakarsh briefly. That look was enough.
"Let's go," she said softly. "I got whatever information he could provide. Now he is useless."
There was no anger in her voice. No excitement. Just closure.
The heavy doors of the hall opened and the medical team entered in disciplined silence. They gave a respectful nod toward Aakarsh and Arini before preparing their equipment with clinical precision.
The man, hearing them approach, forced one last desperate plea.
"But you said... you will stop this!"
His voice cracked into something almost childlike.
Arini paused near the doorway. She turned slightly, her expression calm, almost gentle.
"Since you are dying," she said quietly, "let me tell you a fact you will remember in your next life."
She held his gaze. "Arini Rajvansh never cooperates with traitors."
There was no smirk.
No cruelty in her tone.
Only truth.
Then she turned and walked out of the hall, her steps steady, unhurried. Aakarsh followed beside her.
Behind them, the medical team divided into three groups with mechanical efficiency. They worked while he was still fully conscious, laying each removed organ carefully on the metal table in front of his fading vision.
They did not rush. They did not speak.
They simply performed.
His eyes, once full of corruption and arrogance, slowly lost focus as shock overtook pain.
Eventually, his body went limp.
Silence reclaimed the hall.
Outside, the evening air felt almost peaceful. The sun was beginning to set.
And inside the building, another chapter of betrayal had been erased.
[Warning ends here : You may continue now]
Hey guys, welcome to my world cleaning checklist. And today's task? Removing a parasite from this world.
I should probably laugh while saying that. Add some dramatic background music. Pretend this is all just another episode in the chaotic series called my life.
But honestly? Fuck my mental health.
Right now, my driver- oops , my dearest jiju, is driving the car with that infuriatingly calm expression of his. His hands are steady on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road like we just finished grocery shopping instead of executing a living nightmare.
And I am sitting beside him, opening my notes app, making another to do list. Because apparently the universe thinks I am running short on problems. Yesterday I found out about a new addition to the chaos.
Varika's injuries.
My jaw tightens just thinking about it. Why the hell are people around me so stubborn? Why does everyone decide silence is bravery? I know I spoiled her. I know I protected her too much because she was softer than me, more sensitive, more fragile in ways I never allowed myself to be.
But what kind of stubbornness is this?
She returns from a trip with a fractured arm and a swollen forehead, and she tells no one what happened. Not Maa. Not Chachu. Not even a proper excuse that makes sense.
What happened there?
Who touched her?
Who pushed her?
Or was it truly an accident?
The not knowing is worse than the injury.
And then that useless piece of shit, before dying, decides to drop another bomb. Three people working with Ikhail and his bastard son.
Three.
One, that mysterious new girl.
Second, someone directly linked to Ikhail.
Third, another girl who is connected to that second person.
No names. No faces. No identities. Just shadows.
I press my fingers against my temple and close my eyes for a second. The car moves smoothly over the highway, streetlights passing like streaks of yellow against the glass.
Then we have Aksh.
My permanent problem.
My ally. My headache. My useless support system I refuse to acknowledge properly.
He complicates everything just by existing. By caring. By arguing. By standing too close. By looking at me like I am something worth protecting.
And I do not have the luxury to be protected.
Then there is Papa.
I have to shift him. Change hospitals. Increase security. Handle that entire medical situation because someone is clearly trying to harm him. I am very sure of it. Accidents do not line up this conveniently.
And on top of that? Two businesses.
Thousands of employees.
Investments.
Meetings.
Public image.
Enemies.
Traitors.
And while I am juggling all of this like some overachieving maniac, my hormones decide it is the perfect time to fuck me up too.
Early periods.
Cramps stabbing through my abdomen like tiny invisible knives. My back aching. My patience thinning to a dangerous degree.
I lean my head against the window, staring outside as the city blurs past.
"I will kill everyone in this world," I mutter under my breath.
Then I let out a hollow laugh. "Or I will kill myself."
The words hang heavier than I expect.
For a brief second, the noise inside my head grows too loud. The lists. The enemies. The responsibilities. The pain. The exhaustion.
It feels suffocating.
But then I inhale slowly. Because I do not actually want to die. I am just tired.
Tired of being the one who has to think ten steps ahead.
Tired of being strong by default.
Tired of carrying everything like it is my birthright.
The car slows slightly at a signal. Aakarsh glances at me for a second.
He does not ask what I am thinking. He just looks. Like 'Hello witch... How does it feels to be in top of world? Need some poison ?'
I open my notes again. Add another line.
1.Find out what happened to Varika.
Then another.
2. Identify the three shadows linked to Ikhail.
Then another.
3. Shift Papa safely.
Because no matter how exhausted I am, no matter how badly my body aches, no matter how chaotic it becomes, I do not collapse.
I plan. I execute. And I survive.
Even if some days surviving feels like the hardest task on the checklist.
Dear Bholenath, if you are listening to me...
Which you clearly are not.
But still, by some cosmic accident, if you are tuning into this chaos of a devotee, then lend me your trishul for a few days.
Just a few.
I promise I will return it polished and sharper. I will end everything first. Every enemy. Every shadow. Every name that thinks it can touch my people and walk away breathing. And then maybe I will end myself too, wrap up this dramatic saga neatly, and come sit in Kailash as your most unhinged ghost devotee.
Imagine that.
A spirit in a black professional outfit haunting Mount Kailash with unfinished rage.
Okay. Enough, Arini.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my forehead.
This is not divine rage. This is hormones. This is your period messing up your brain chemistry and amplifying every emotion like it is the end of the world.
Calm the fuck down.
[A/N : Us Arini Us.]
You did not wake up one random morning years ago and decide to become average.
You did not bleed, burn, build, fight and rise just to collapse because your body decided to start a biological cycle early.
The car slowly came to a halt as we reached the palace gates. The guards opened them instantly, and the vehicle rolled inside with quiet authority.
I stepped out, my heels clicking against the marble floor, still feeling that dull cramp in my lower abdomen.
The doors opened. And then I saw him.
My baby.
For a second, everything inside me softened.
"Aww... Leo babyyy!"
I crouched down immediately, ignoring the protest in my muscles, and wrapped my arms around him as he rushed toward me with full excitement. His tail wagged uncontrollably. His fur brushed against my hands, soft, warm, alive.
God, this fluffy child of mine. I buried my face into his neck for a second as I have to wash my face later anyways .
"I love you so much," I whispered, scratching behind his ears.
Humans are absolute bullshit.
Complicated. Deceptive. Layered with lies and ego.
Animals?
They love you without strategy.
They stay without betrayal.
****
FFuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Pick up the damn call, you rascal."
I dialed Aakarsh's number for the third time. No response.
My laptop screen blinked red again. Warning notifications stacked on top of each other like a silent alarm screaming in code.
By the fifth call, he finally picked up. And I snapped instantly.
"MAR GAYE THE KYA? SAMAJH NAHI AATA HAI KOI CALL KAR RAHA HAI TOH IMPORTANT HOGA?"
I am very sure his sleep evaporated in that second.
"It's 2 am in the night, dammit," he muttered, voice groggy but alerting quickly.
"If you don't open your damn laptop and shift all your data to the central vault in the next couple of minutes, you will be finished forever. DO IT. ASAP."
My voice was not emotional. It was sharp.
"What—"
"I SAID DO IT."
The tone that came out of me was harsh. Not from anger.
From urgency.
From the seriousness of losing something precious.
From the seriousness of watching years of work crumble because someone underestimated timing.
From the seriousness of knowing an empire can collapse in seconds if you blink.
Yes.
I do not yell.
Until I do.
Yes.
I am unserious.
Until I am not.
Yes.
I am fearless.
Until I see something that can actually hurt the people I care about.
I had been peacefully working on business projections when my laptop pinged. Just one notification. I glanced casually at first.
Then my blood ran cold. Multiple IP addresses. Simultaneous login attempts. Different geographical origins. A coordinated attack.
Which meant one thing. A group of hackers, from different locations, invading in one synchronized move.
That is not amateur work.
That is planned. And it is dangerous.
I could not immediately counterattack with heavy coding because someone was actively tracking my system as well. If I initiated aggressive defense from here, they would lock onto my location faster.
And these hackers? Their loop game was strong. They would break through my codes for a second.
Just one second.
And that one second would be enough to extract everything Aakarsh had stored in his main head office servers.
Financials.
Private files.
Strategic data.
Everything.
I watched the loops unfold on my screen. Lines of code flickering. Firewall strength fluctuating. Intrusion attempts repeating in patterns.
Meanwhile, Aakarsh came online.
His voice changed completely now, no trace of sleep left. He was not physically in Italy.
He was here. But he was instructing the IT team there through a secure line, telling them exactly where to transfer which data.
"Shift archives to vault B."
"Encrypt raw financial sheets separately."
"Do not merge. Isolate first."
His tone was calm. Precise. Focused.
I watched his system go offline briefly, then reappear under secured protocols. My screen still flashed red. The attackers were persistent.
Testing vulnerabilities.
Pushing boundaries.
Trying to catch us slipping.
My cramps worsened. My head throbbed.
But my fingers moved faster. I rerouted traffic. Created decoy pathways. Fed them false trails to slow them down. This was no longer just hacking.
This was a war in silence. A digital battlefield at 2 am while the half world slept peacefully.
I might be hormonal. I might be exhausted. I might be on the edge of losing my mind.
But I do not lose wars.
Specially if they are digital .
And I was compelled to hold myself back.
Every instinct inside me screamed to jump in from the front foot, to attack them head on, to crush their codes with mine and remind them why the digital underworld whispers my name.
But the moment I activated my signature defense layers, the trackers embedded within their system would light up. They would trace the pattern. They would recognize the rhythm.
And in seconds, they would know that Arini is Darkness.
That is not acceptable. That name is not just an alias.
It is a shadow carefully maintained, a weapon kept hidden, a myth that works only because it is not fully seen.
So I did not log in as Darkness. Instead, I stayed in the background.
I instructed the IT team through encrypted channels, guiding them step by step, altering their codes subtly, patching vulnerabilities through their systems without leaving my own fingerprint.
It was like performing surgery through gloves layered over gloves. Precise. Calculated. Invisible.
Once Aakarsh confirmed that every critical file had been shifted to the central vault, I did not allow even a second of relief.
"Stop everything," I ordered. "Disconnect. Go offline. Now."
No heroic counterattacks. No dramatic defense stunts. Not even one extra keystroke. Not a single trace of presence should remain.
They didn't hesitate even for half a breath. They obeyed.
Why did I do that? Because I knew the pattern.
When the outer defense wall finally collapses under pressure, hackers get a small window.
Four seconds. Just four. In those four seconds, they scan everything at lightning speed.
Server directories. File structures. Data pathways.
So I made sure that when their breakthrough moment came, they would see nothing.
Empty servers. Empty folders. Blank directories. A digital graveyard.
And when they tried to trace where everything had gone, they would find silence.
No outgoing signal. No active node. No traceable movement.
Because everyone would already be offline. Dead air.
And that is exactly what happened. The defense layer cracked. Their scripts rushed in. Four seconds passed. And they found emptiness.
Then panic. Then confusion. Then nothing.
I leaned back slowly in my chair and watched the activity logs flatline.
I smiled. Not a wide smile. Just that small, satisfied curve of lips when a plan works exactly the way you designed it.
I love this adrenaline rush sometimes. The way your heart pounds but your mind becomes terrifyingly clear. The way the world narrows down to logic and instinct.
It is dangerous. But it is also... fun.
I laughed softly into the call. "Happy waking up, Jiju."
He let out a long, exhausted sigh on the other end.
"I swear, itna tez toh Anu bhi nahi chillati hai. Were you planning to ruin my eardrums or something? Meri aatma tak me sunayi di hai tumhari awaz."
I could almost picture him rubbing his face, still half wrapped in sleep and half thrown into crisis mode.
I chuckled, the tension finally easing from my shoulders. "That's what you deserve when you don't pick up my call."
He muttered under his breath, switching languages like he always does when he wants to pretend I will not respond.
"Spero che ci sia un posto separato per te all'inferno, Arini."
(I hope there's a separate place for you in hell, Arini.)
I hummed, dramatically offended. "E spero che sarai tu quello che occuperà la posizione più alta all'inferno."
(And I hope you'll be the one occupying the highest position in hell.)
There was a pause. Then he shot back in the same language, amused now.
"Quindi chiederai anche metà di quella posizione all'inferno?"
(So you're going to ask for half of that position in hell too?)
I laughed properly this time, the sound lighter than it had been all night.
"Certo. Ho fatto da Cupido per te in questa vita, quindi devi ricambiare il favore in ogni altra vita."
(Of course. I played Cupid for you in this life, so you must return the favor in every other life.)
The crisis was over. The empire stood untouched. The servers were silent. And somewhere in the dark web, a group of hackers were probably staring at empty screens, wondering how they broke in and still walked away with nothing.
The jet descended smoothly onto the runway of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, gliding toward a secluded private hangar where silence waited like an unspoken rule.
As the engines powered down, the cabin door opened to the warm, heavy air of Mumbai, thick with humidity and faint jet fuel, wrapping around them the moment they stepped out.
Aksh, Arini, Chhavi, Bhavya, and Leo exited one by one, their expressions carrying different shades of exhaustion and tension.
Throughout the entire journey they had stayed in separate sections of the jet, the silence louder than any argument could have been, and only Arini and Leo had remained together, her fingers absentmindedly buried in his fur as if grounding herself.
Arini looked drained beyond imagination, like someone who had survived a battlefield and was still standing purely out of stubborn will.
Her energy was frighteningly low, as though she had been shot fifty seven times and yet refused to collapse, moving only because stopping was not an option.
She had devoured twenty three chocolates during the flight, barely tasting any of them, using sugar as fuel for a mind that refused to rest.
Now irritation flickered in her eyes as she mentally calculated the calories, the workouts she would need, the discipline she would impose on herself later for this temporary weakness.
Her glare had sharpened into something almost lethal, so piercing that even Bhavya instinctively kept two careful steps away.
Arini looked like a walking zombie with anger simmering beneath the surface, a storm barely restrained behind controlled breathing and clenched jaws.
She turned abruptly, her coat swaying behind her, and spoke in a tone that allowed no debate.
"Except Bhavya, everyone go to your homes. Bhavya, you come with me to Rajvansh Estate and tell me everything that happened in the Mumbai head office. In detail. I want every single thing."
Bhavya nodded quickly, understanding that this was not the time to hesitate.
Without another word, Arini and Leo walked toward the waiting car, her heels striking the ground with a rhythm that matched her irritated pulse.
Chhavi leaned slightly toward Aksh and whispered, her voice trembling with curiosity and fear.
"Did you guys fight or something? Why does she look like she might actually kill someone today?"
Aksh shook his head instantly, lifting both hands defensively as if Arini could see him.
"I am fond of my life," he muttered seriously. "Yes, I lectured her, but that was day before yesterday. She did not kill me yesterday, which means today's disaster is not on me."
Chhavi nodded slowly, half convinced and half terrified.
Just then, Raghav arrived to pick her up, walking in with casual confidence that vanished the moment Aksh removed his sunglasses and glared at him.
"Saale haramjade, ab teri surgeries nahi hai na?" Aksh muttered under his breath, irritation rising instantly.
Raghav looked at Chhavi, ignoring Aksh entirely, and said softly, "I owed this to her. That's why I came."
Aksh bent down, removed one shoe dramatically, and pointed it at Raghav like a weapon.
"Saale, saari zindagi maine jhela tujhe. Now priority Chhavi ban gayi? Haan?"
Raghav immediately turned and ran, panic replacing composure.
"Bhai, airport mein hain hum!" he shouted while sprinting, dodging luggage carts and confused staff.
Aksh chased after him, one shoe in hand, the other foot half slipping on the polished floor.
"Kutte, tereko toh main nark ki flight mein bithaunga. Ruk ja!"
In the chaos, Raghav collided straight into Bhavya, who stumbled backward and bumped slightly into Leo.
That was enough. Leo's protective instincts ignited in a fraction of a second, and he leaped toward Raghav with a fierce growl that froze everyone's blood.
Arini turned slowly at the sound of chaos, her expression unreadable.
Before her stood a scene of pure absurdity, Chhavi holding two bags like a stunned statue, Aksh frozen mid chase with one bare foot and one raised shoe, Bhavya staring in horror at the furious lion, and Raghav lying beneath Leo, silently praying for survival.
Without raising her voice, Arini calmly placed her phone inside the car.
Then she reached into her coat, pulled out her pistol, and aimed directly at Aksh with deadly precision.
"Aaj kahani khatam hi kar deti hun main tum sab ki," she said quietly, and somehow that whisper felt more terrifying than a scream.
Within a single second, all of them, including Leo, stood in a straight line looking down at the floor like disciplined schoolchildren.
Only Bhavya remained frozen, too shocked to react, her heart pounding wildly.
Raghav muttered softly to Aksh, "Haramkhor, bataya kyun nahi ki aaj ye aise mood mein hai aur Leo ke saath hai?"
Aksh hissed back, "Kutte, jab tujhe Chhavi se fursat mile tab na kuch jaanega tu."
Leo growled again, silencing both of them instantly.
Arini's patience finally snapped.
"Agle das second mein nikal lo yahan se, varna sabki antim yatra yahin se niklegi."
She turned toward the car and opened the passenger door for Leo with unexpected gentleness.
When she looked back, everyone had vanished as if teleported, leaving only Leo and Bhavya standing there in stunned silence.
Leo settled into the seat, and Arini muttered under her breath with a faint, dangerous smile.
"Ye darr achha hai."
****
The moment Arini stepped inside the vast Rajvansh mansion, the echo of her footsteps bounced against marble floors and high ceilings.
Her eyes immediately searched for Varika, anxiety piercing through the irritation she had carried from the airport.
She found her in the living room, seated carefully on the couch, her injured hand resting on a cushion.
Arini walked toward her without hesitation and crouched down, the cold floor pressing against her knees as she gently lifted Varika's fractured hand.
Her fingers trembled slightly while examining the swelling, tracing every faint bruise as though memorizing the damage.
Her brows knitted together, and her eyes held a depth of worry she rarely showed anyone.
"How did it get fractured, Varika?" she asked softly, fear hidden beneath controlled calm.
Varika attempted a small smile, though the memory still haunted her.
"Me and my friends went on a trip," she began slowly. "We were climbing near a rocky hill. I slipped on a hard stone and fell badly. The pain was immediate, Di. It felt like my bones were breaking into pieces. I could not even breathe properly."
She swallowed, recalling the hospital lights, the antiseptic smell, her friends' panicked voices.
"When the doctor checked, they confirmed it was a fracture."
Arini exhaled deeply, frustration and relief colliding inside her chest.
"How careless you all are," she muttered, but her tone was protective, not harsh. "This will take months to recover. And sometimes... even when bones heal, the impact remains."
Her voice softened on the last sentence, as if she was speaking about more than just an injury.
Varika glanced at Bhavya briefly, gathering courage.
"Di, I want to join SR Enterprises."
Arini's head snapped up instantly, disbelief evident on her face.
"What? Varika, you are a medico. Your leave application is for three months because of rest. Why suddenly this?"
Varika nodded determinedly despite the pain.
"I want to stand in your shoes once. I want to experience the business world. You can give me something easy. Maybe... being your PA?"
Arini scoffed, a mixture of disbelief and concern flashing across her face.
"Did you hit your head as well? That is not easy work, and it is not something I hand over casually."
Varika looked toward Bhavya and said quietly, "Why? Bhavya is my age too, and she manages both your companies."
Arini stood up slowly, authority radiating from her presence.
"Do not ever bring this idea into your head again. If you want to experience business, fine. You will work as an intern. You will observe and learn."
Her eyes turned briefly toward Bhavya.
"PA is not a position I just assign to anyone. It was Bhavya's. It is Bhavya's. And it will remain hers."
Bhavya hesitated, stepping forward slightly.
"Mam... I think—"
"Did I tell you to think?" Arini cut her off sharply, her exhaustion amplifying the harshness. "No. Then focus on your work."
She looked at Varika once more, her expression stern yet layered with love.
"I can give you the world. But if you ever try to snatch what belongs to someone else, I will not support it."
With that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing through the mansion once again.
Behind her, Bhavya and Varika stood in silence, both shaken, both understanding that beneath Arini's anger lay fierce loyalty and a heart that protected its people at any cost.
Two weeks later ~
October had officially begun a few days ago, and the air carried that strange transition between humidity and approaching winter.
There was a faint coolness in the mornings now, the kind that makes you pause for a second before stepping into another exhausting day.
Today, Ms. Bhavya Chandel had summoned me to the ground floor of my own office building.
The irony was not lost on me, because technically the way she orders me , she is legit the CEO and I am her PA, even though the world would collapse if anyone tried to measure our roles in simple titles.
Of course, guys, she signs my paycheck.
Without her payroll, I would probably be dramatically narrating my life story to strangers at a traffic signal just to survive.
The lift doors slid open with a soft mechanical chime, and I stepped out into the reception area.
She was already standing there, straight posture, hands folded, looking both composed and slightly restless at the same time.
I walked toward her slowly, my heels clicking against the marble floor, and cleared my throat in a way that demanded explanation.
Her expression shifted instantly when she saw me, as if she had been rehearsing what to say.
She gently held my hand, her grip unusually warm and slightly nervous.
"Mam, please come here," she said softly, almost like she was asking for permission instead of giving instructions.
Before I could question further, she guided me outside the building and toward the walking stretch along the road.
Cars passed by, the city noise buzzing around us, but her silence felt heavier than the traffic.
She stopped after a few steps and inhaled deeply.
"Mam, since we are not in the office right now, I want you to meet someone."
I nodded slightly, confused but composed.
"But my schedule was clear. I did not have any meetings planned," I replied, instinctively switching to professional mode.
She hesitated for a second, then said quietly, "It is someone personal."
I immediately took two steps backward, drawing an invisible line between professionalism and personal chaos.
"Now I am technically back on office property," I said calmly. "And I refuse, Bhavya."
Her eyes widened, and she quickly held my wrist before I could retreat further.
"Pleaseeeee," she stretched the word, her voice trembling with genuine pleading.
I shook my head firmly.
"No."
She stepped closer, desperation visible in her eyes.
"Mam, you were the one who said that outside the office we are friends. And as a friend, and as your PA also, I want you to meet someone."
I stared at her for a long moment, reading every flicker of emotion on her face.
"Who, when, where?" I asked finally, my tone sharp but controlled.
She exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for minutes.
"My boyfriend. Today. Right now. I will take you to the location."
I shook my head again without hesitation.
"I refuse."
She tried once more, softer this time, almost vulnerable.
"Pleaseeee..."
I frowned deeply, irritation mixing with concern.
"Bhavya, I am not that kind of friend who smiles politely and approves everything. I will go harsh on your boyfriend. I will dissect him psychologically in front of you. It might ruin your relationship. And besides, I do not have that kind of time."
She did not step back this time.
Instead, her voice steadied, and she spoke with surprising maturity.
"Mam, I know exactly what kind of person you are. And that is why I want you. I do not want someone who blindly supports me. I want someone who will brutally point out flaws, someone who will show me the mirror of reality."
Her eyes softened, and for a moment she looked like a girl in love.
"I am foolish when it comes to love. I might not see what you will observe. I promise, neither I nor he is fragile. If there are weaknesses, we will improve them."
She paused before adding the part that hit deeper than the rest.
"I have not even told my dad about him. And I will not until my closest friend approves. And trust me, Mam... I only have you."
Her words lingered in the air between us.
And all I could think about was the last time I had agreed to "just meet" someone's boyfriend, and how that story had ended in emotional wreckage. Yep It was my own sister , Varika. And believe it or not she still hold grudges against me for it. She still goes to that idiot's colony .
She looked at me again, hopeful but scared.
"It will only take forty five minutes. Fifteen minutes to go, fifteen minutes to meet, fifteen minutes to return. I promise."
I closed my eyes briefly, calculating not time, but consequences.
Fine. If she wants to test both him and my patience, then so be it.
I opened my eyes and nodded once.
"Make it forty minutes. And I will not be responsible for what happens afterward."
Her face lit up instantly, relief washing over her features like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"Sure, Mam," she smiled, happiness trembling in her voice, unaware that those forty minutes might change far more than she anticipated.
Within a few minutes, she returned with her car and stopped right in front of me.
The engine was still humming softly when she leaned slightly out of the window, giving me a small expectant smile.
I opened the passenger door and sat inside, adjusting my seat belt slowly while my mind ran through a dozen thoughts at once.
Normally, I never do this, mixing personal matters with professional life. I had always kept those two worlds strictly separated like two parallel lines that should never intersect.
But this year... my entire life had been completely messed up by the collision of those very boundaries.
Personal emotions had seeped into boardrooms, and professional responsibilities had invaded moments that should have belonged only to the heart.
I agreed to marry to handle my father's business , then I choosen my rival and someone whom I despised the ten years of my life to be my husband , and then after that everything just got tangled more .
I stared out of the window for a moment, watching the city pass by.
Maybe the universe was deliberately forcing me to learn something, teaching me how to survive even when those two worlds get tangled together.
So perhaps denying it now would only mean resisting something inevitable.
And I was far too tired to keep resisting every single change life was throwing at me.
I glanced up from my phone and looked toward Bhavya, who was focused on the road ahead.
"Bhavya," I said calmly, my voice shifting into its usual professional tone, "this month's finance reports are late. Why?"
She didn't look surprised by the question at all.
"Mam, several projects were completed at the very last moment of the month," she explained while steering the car carefully through traffic.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as she continued.
"The team had already drafted the final report by then, assuming the numbers were closed. But when those projects were finalized, the figures increased significantly."
She exhaled softly before finishing.
"So the entire finance department had to redo the calculations and prepare the reports again. That is why it got delayed."
I leaned back slightly in the seat, processing the information.
"How much change?" I asked, my tone neutral but attentive.
She finally glanced at me for a brief second.
"From 3000 crore to 4765 crore," she said, a hint of pride hidden beneath her calm expression.
Then she added quickly, as if anticipating my next question.
"And the finance team has guaranteed that you will receive the final reports tonight, at any cost."
I hummed thoughtfully, tapping my finger lightly against my phone screen.
"Last month it was 3700 crore," I murmured, doing the comparison almost instinctively in my head.
A small approving nod escaped me.
"So compared to that, it is better."
Bhavya's lips curved into a faint smile, clearly relieved that I wasn't displeased.
"Arrange a one-day celebration party," I continued casually, as if assigning the most ordinary task in the world.
She blinked in surprise but kept listening carefully.
"Give everyone a day off on that day," I added. "And the teams who worked on those projects should receive bonuses."
That encourages them to work harder next time .
I looked at her directly now. "I will approve everything tomorrow in case you doubt my words."
She suddenly laughed, the sound light and teasing.
"Of course, Mam. What if you genuinely change your mood tomorrow and deny all of it?"
I nodded slowly, pretending to consider her suspicion.
"Your day off is cancelled now."
"Mam!!" she exclaimed dramatically, her face instantly shifting into a betrayed expression.
The way she said it made it sound as if I had personally ruined her entire life.
I simply shrugged, keeping my face perfectly straight despite the amusement tugging at the corners of my lips.
After a moment of silence, I asked again, returning to business mode.
"What about SR Enterprises?"
She shook her head slightly, as if the scale of it still amazed her.
"Mam, that one is huge. I have the full reports with me right now, but I will mail them to you in the evening."
Her voice carried both excitement and exhaustion.
"But the approximate numbers are around 9000 crore. And after adding the branches outside Asia, it crosses 13000 crore."
I raised my eyebrow slightly, impressed but unsurprised.
"And the previous month?"
She replied immediately.
"It was almost the same. Just a few crores difference, nothing major."
I nodded slowly, staring ahead through the windshield as the traffic lights turned red.
If it had been Papa handling it, the difference would have been massive. His strategies always created dramatic shifts in numbers.
But then again, this was only the first month after everything changed.
And for a first month, stability was not a bad result at all.
From this month onward, I would have to focus more on SR Enterprises personally, because some empires cannot afford even a single careless moment.
[A/N: Arini ek mahine ki income dedo yaar , mera jivan safal ho jayega. ]
After ten minutes of driving through the crowded streets, Bhavya finally slowed the car and turned into a familiar parking area.
The moment the building came into view through the windshield, I instantly recognized the place, and a faint tension settled in my chest.
It was the same place.
The exact same spot where, not very long ago, I had called Varika and her boyfriend for a conversation that had ended far from peacefully.
My fingers tightened slightly around my phone as the memory brushed against my mind.
God... please don't give me flashbacks right now. I really don't have the patience or emotional energy to relive that entire scene again.
Bhavya carefully parked the car in an empty slot and turned off the engine.
The silence that followed inside the car felt strangely loud, almost as if the air itself was waiting for my reaction.
And then it suddenly hit me.
Bhavya had been smarter than I expected. When I told her the entire meeting should end within forty minutes, I had assumed she would shorten the actual meeting time.
But instead, she had driven like she was on a race track just to reduce the time spent on the road.
I sighed internally, realizing the trick a little too late.
Ugh... I should have said thirty minutes instead of forty.
Now the meeting time itself would still be long enough for whatever disaster was waiting inside that building.
But fine, the situation was already here, and there was no point overthinking it now.
I opened the car door slowly and stepped out, the faint evening breeze brushing against my face.
Bhavya came around the car and stood beside me, her expression unusually calm yet excited at the same time.
"Bhavya," I said firmly, turning toward her with a serious look, "I am still warning you. Think again."
My tone wasn't threatening, but it carried a quiet seriousness that anyone who knew me well would immediately understand.
I wasn't someone who gave repeated warnings without reason.
She looked straight at me for a moment, and then a soft smile appeared on her face.
"Oh, I thought again," she said lightly.
She tilted her head slightly and added with playful confidence, "And guess what?"
I raised one eyebrow slowly, waiting for her answer.
A part of me already knew I wasn't going to like whatever she was about to say. But I wanted her to say No . And I return back . I know myself , my tone beats a sharpened knife and the insane facecard of looking like a meanest person on this planet , lowkey brings the real and hidden side of people which their loved ones are afraid to see .
Before I could respond, she suddenly held my hand.
Her grip was warm, firm, and surprisingly reassuring as she began pulling me gently toward the entrance door of the building.
"That you should stop wasting time," she said cheerfully while walking ahead.
"And come meet my man."
For a brief moment, her excitement was so genuine that it caught me off guard.
It wasn't the excitement of someone showing off, it was the nervous happiness of someone introducing an important person in their life.
And strangely... I caught myself smiling.
It wasn't a big smile, just a small curve of my lips that appeared before I could stop it.
But the moment I realized it, I quickly masked it with my usual composed expression. Clearing my throat lightly, I straightened my posture and walked inside the building beside her.
Whatever was about to happen next, I had a feeling this meeting would not be as simple as Bhavya believed it would be.
And I was fucking right.
The moment I stepped inside the restaurant, my instincts immediately tightened. Something about the scene felt familiar even before my mind could fully process it. A man was standing near the table Bhavya had reserved. His back was turned toward us, and he seemed to be adjusting something on the table, probably arranging the plates or the flowers.
For a brief moment I simply looked at him.
I don't know why, but something about his posture, the broad shoulders, the slight tilt of his head, the way he stood so calmly, felt strangely familiar. It was like my mind had already seen that exact frame somewhere before, but the memory was still blurry.
Then Bhavya lightly tapped his shoulder. He turned around.
And for a fraction of a second, a very tiny second that no one else could notice, I froze.
It was barely a pause, barely even a reaction, but my brain had already connected the face with a memory I had never expected to see again in this situation.
He smiled warmly and stepped forward.
In one hand he held a bouquet of red roses, which he immediately offered to Bhavya. In the other hand, he held a bouquet of soft pink lilies which he gently extended toward me.
"Good evening, Mam," he said politely, his voice calm and respectful.
"It's really nice to have you here."
I accepted the flowers slowly, my expression perfectly controlled.
"Evening, Mr. Sinha," I replied evenly.
"Glad to see you... again."
Yes.
Mr. Avyan Sinha.
The same Avyan Sinha who worked as Chhavi's PA.
The same poor guy whom Chhavi had publicly embarrassed in the middle of a restaurant while drunkenly whining about kissing him.
And now...
He was Bhavya's boyfriend.
WOW UNIVERSE.
Fuck you.
Seriously.
The evening simply could not have gotten more interesting than this.
Avyan politely gestured toward the chair across the table.
"Please have a seat, Mam."
I gave a small nod and walked toward the table. Bhavya came and sat beside me instead of sitting next to him.
I glanced at her and said calmly, "Won't you join him?"
Before Bhavya could even open her mouth, Avyan sighed dramatically and muttered in a playful tone.
"Join me? Mam, you won't believe it. She ignores me the same way people ignore long lines at a panipuri stall , whenever the topic is about you."
A small chuckle escaped my lips.
Bhavya immediately shot him a deadly glare that could probably melt steel.
"Careful, Mr. Sinha," I said lightly while placing the bouquet on the table.
"You still have to go home with her tonight. And she definitely knows how to bury things."
Avyan raised both hands slightly in surrender while Bhavya narrowed her eyes at him. The three of us sat down, and within seconds the waiter arrived with desserts.
Two chocolate brownies. And one hot chocolava cake.
I turned slowly toward Bhavya.
"So all those questions were for this?" I asked calmly.
She nodded immediately.
"He asked me all that," she admitted, pointing toward Avyan.
"He wanted to earn some good points."
And suddenly everything made sense.
For the past week, Bhavya had been randomly asking me strange questions during breaks. Favorite flowers. Favorite desserts. Favorite drinks. Even stupid things like my preferred seat in restaurants.
Now I understood. The entire thing had been a carefully planned operation.
Avyan leaned back slightly and added quickly, "She didn't actually tell me anything about today, Mam."
He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.
"I've been waiting here for almost one hour. She just told me to come and wait."
He chuckled softly. "And she wasn't even sure if you would come or not. Fifteen minutes ago she texted me saying she would try to convince you depending on your mood."
He gestured toward the table. "So I quickly arranged everything."
Then he glanced at Bhavya teasingly.
"Besides... Bhavya is a foodie. If she gets hungry, no one can save you."
I hummed quietly and took a bite of the brownie.
"Well," I said casually while chewing, "to compensate for your one hour of waiting... I will allow Bhavya to take a day off."
Bhavya's eyes lit up instantly. I continued calmly.
"Considering she said something earlier that resulted in her day off being cancelled."
She looked like she had just received a national award.
Enough.
I was getting too friendly.
I cleared my throat slightly and straightened my posture.
"So," I said calmly, "since when are you two together?"
Avyan answered without hesitation. "For four and a half years."
He smiled faintly while glancing at Bhavya. "We were classmates. And... I fell for her."
His eyes softened slightly as he continued. "On our farewell day, I proposed to her."
He paused. "She rejected me."
Bhavya continued eating her brownie very proudly as if this was an achievement.
Avyan laughed quietly. "You won't believe this, Mam... she rejected me eighteen times within one year."
I raised an eyebrow slowly.
"But I guess I was too whipped," he continued with a helpless smile.
"So I tried the nineteenth time."
He looked at Bhavya again. "And she finally said yes."
Bhavya looked extremely proud of herself.
Then she turned toward me and said proudly, "I used to be a man-hater before."
A small laugh escaped me. "What a heartwarming love story" .
Avyan continued explaining. "She told me to apply to AR Group and pass the interview. She wanted me to work there."
He sighed slightly while remembering. "That day I was nervous because she was literally waiting outside my apartment with a broomstick."
Bhavya tried to look innocent.
"Then that whole chaos happened with Chhavi Mam," he continued. "I didn't even get time to explain that I was already committed."
He shook his head. "And even if I had explained... she was drunk. She wouldn't have understood anything."
I nodded in agreement. "Drunk people are absolute disasters."
And suddenly... A stupid flashback echoed inside my head.
"Long live queen Arini!"
"You have a husband and I have a wife!"
"Yes I have a husband and I am the wife!"
"We will cook this green eyed servant!"
Mine and Aakarsh's ridiculous voices echoed in my memory. I immediately shoved another bite of brownie into my mouth.
Focus, Arini.
Focus.
I wiped my fingers with a napkin and asked calmly, "When are you planning to introduce Bhavya to your family?"
Then I added, "And when are you planning to meet her father?"
Avyan answered immediately. "My family has known her since the beginning."
He smiled fondly. "My brother even helped me pursue her."
I raised a brow.
He chuckled. "I used to buy flowers every week and almost went broke. So he started secretly transferring money to my account just so I could keep buying them."
Bhavya rolled her eyes.
"And then he teased me endlessly," Avyan added.
Then he looked directly at me. "And I can meet her father whenever she feels comfortable introducing me."
He paused slightly. "But first... your approval is needed."
I raised an eyebrow slowly. "And if I refuse?"
He blinked once. Then smiled.
"Then I will try again."
His tone was calm but firm. "If I could try nineteen times for her... then you can imagine how stubborn I am."
I slowly pushed my empty brownie plate aside. Only two minutes were left of the fifteen minutes I had mentally given this meeting.
I looked at him carefully. "How sure are you about this relationship?"
Avyan didn't even look at me first. He looked at Bhavya. His expression softened completely.
"I am more sure about this than anything else in my life."
Then he looked back at me. "I genuinely love her."
His voice was steady. "She was my first priority from the moment I truly understood her. And she will remain my first priority until my last breath."
He paused briefly. "I know love isn't easy. But I am ready for whatever life throws at me... as long as she is standing beside me at the end."
Then he added quietly, "Even if you refused today, Mam... I wouldn't hold any grudges. I would simply try again. And keep trying until you believe that I deserve her."
I leaned back slightly. "Do you think you deserve her?"
He nodded. "Yes."
Then he corrected himself. "Not because I fell in love with her."
"But because I will keep trying to become the person she deserves. I know I have flaws."
"But I am ready to fix them." At that moment his watch beeped softly.
He glanced at it and smiled. "Mam... my fifteen minutes are over."
He chuckled slightly. "Bhavya warned me about your time management."
I stood up slowly. "You already said enough, Mr. Sinha."
I gave him a small smile.
"Take a deep breath. Enjoy your dinner with Bhavya. I have somewhere important to go."
Bhavya quickly stood up beside me.
"Mam, he has overtime today," she explained.
"He took half day earlier, but the work must be finished by tomorrow."
She picked up her bag. "So I'll leave with you."
I nodded once.
Then looked at Avyan. "Well then... have a nice evening, Mr. Sinha."
He nodded politely. "You too, Mam."
I walked out of the restaurant slowly, the cool evening air brushing against my face as I stepped outside. The faint sounds of traffic and distant conversations filled the silence around me, but my mind was still inside that table, replaying the entire conversation again and again. Without wasting another moment, I walked toward the car and leaned slightly against its side. The metal was still warm from the sun that had been shining all day, and the warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my clothes.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Dr. Fertz.
When he answered, I briefly asked whether he was at the hospital or not. Once he confirmed that he was indeed there, I gave a short acknowledgment and ended the call.
Then I slipped my phone back into my bag and leaned my head back against the car, folding my arms loosely while waiting for Bhavya to come out. For a few quiet seconds, I simply stared ahead at nothing in particular.
And strangely...
I felt genuinely happy for her.
Not the kind of polite happiness people fake when they hear someone's good news. Not the superficial smiles people give just to appear supportive.
This was real.
Mr. Sinha truly seemed like the right person for Bhavya.
From my perspective, whenever I meet someone new, especially someone who claims to love a person close to me, I subconsciously begin observing certain things.
Not intentionally. It just happens.
The first thing I always notice is confidence.
When I had come here earlier with Varika, her boyfriend had lacked that completely. His body language had been restless, his eyes unsure, and his entire presence carried a strange kind of hesitation.
Confidence doesn't mean arrogance. It simply means knowing where you stand and being certain of your intentions.
And that uncertainty had been screaming through his entire presence that day.
Then comes the second thing I always observe.
Gestures.
Words can be beautifully crafted. People can say the most convincing things with their mouths, but the body rarely lies. Body language reveals the truth people often try to hide behind their sentences.
Sometimes the way someone sits, the way their shoulders move when they speak about their partner, the way their eyes react when that person enters the room, tells far more than a thousand declarations of love.
When I met Mr. Sinha today, there were many small things I noticed.
Tiny things that most people would never even pay attention to.
But I did.
I noticed the way he kept adjusting the tissue holder on the table again and again, trying to make everything look perfect before Bhavya arrived.
I noticed the faint nervous tremor in his hand when he gestured for me to sit.
I noticed the way his shoulders stiffened slightly when he first addressed me, as if he was mentally preparing himself for an evaluation.
He wasn't perfectly composed. He wasn't pretending to be flawless. And strangely, that imperfection felt honest.
But alongside those small nervous details, there were other things. Things that mattered much more.
The way his eyes softened every time he looked at Bhavya. The way he described her habits, her food choices, the little details about her personality. That is something I always value deeply.
The art of noticing.
Anyone can claim they love someone. But only a few people truly pay attention to the smallest details of the person they love.
He noticed.
And that said more than any dramatic confession ever could.
Another thing that stayed with me was the way his words matched his actions. Many people say they prioritize someone. But when the moment arrives, their behavior reveals a completely different truth.
With him, the two aligned.
His words matched what he did. Bhavya looked comfortable around him. Relaxed. Completely at ease. She wasn't performing. She wasn't trying to impress him or maintain some image.
She was simply being herself.
And when he spoke, she listened with a natural familiarity that only comes from long companionship. That kind of comfort cannot exist in a one-sided relationship. It grows only when both people contribute equally to the bond.
Even when Bhavya hadn't told him the full details about today, he still came prepared. He waited patiently for one whole hour without complaining. Despite having work to finish. Despite not even knowing whether I would actually show up or not.
That kind of patience isn't easy.
And then there was the part that stayed with me the most.
Nineteen attempts.
Nineteen times he swallowed his pride and tried again.
Nineteen times he accepted rejection without letting his ego destroy the feeling he had for her.
Most people would have walked away after the second or third rejection.
But he stayed.
Not in desperation.
Not in obsession.
But in quiet determination.
And even today, when I asked what he would do if I refused, he didn't argue. He didn't protest. He simply said he would try again.
How could anyone refuse that kind of love?
I exhaled slowly, staring at the dim streetlights beginning to flicker on one by one. A faint smile appeared on my lips without me realizing it.
Who am I to reject something so genuine?
Some people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that and never find it.
And Bhavya...
She already had it standing right beside her.
And deep inside my heart, I silently hoped that this love of theirs would survive every storm life might throw at them.
Because it had been many years since I had last witnessed a love like that. Not the dramatic kind people write in poems or show in movies, but the quiet, stubborn, unwavering kind that survives through time without needing constant reassurance.
The last time I had seen something like that... was years ago.
It was my Bua and her husband.
They were the kind of couple people secretly admired. The kind whose presence alone made others believe that love wasn't just a temporary emotion but something that could actually last a lifetime. Their love had been the reason I once believed in fairy tale endings.
I had never personally experienced such love myself. Not even close. But watching them had been enough to convince me that somewhere in this complicated world, that kind of bond truly existed. The way they spoke to each other... the way they looked at each other... the effortless understanding between them... the care they had for each other.
It was the kind of love where even silence felt complete.
Sometimes they would sit together without speaking a single word, yet their presence alone filled the room with warmth. As a child, I used to watch them with wide curious eyes, wondering if everyone eventually found someone who looked at them that way.
They had unknowingly become the foundation of my belief in love.
But then...
Everything shattered.
Life, as it always does, proved that even the most beautiful things are fragile.
I blinked slowly, forcing those memories away before they could drag my mind too deep into the past.
This wasn't the time to revisit old wounds. I lifted my gaze and looked toward the restaurant entrance. A moment later, the glass doors opened and Bhavya stepped outside.
Mr. Sinha walked beside her, the two of them talking about something quietly. Then, after a brief exchange of words, he gave her a small nod and walked toward the parking area where his car was waiting.
Bhavya, however, turned and walked straight toward me. We left for company as my car was still there .
****
"Yes, Dr. Fertz. I will be shifting you, papa, and a selected group of doctors to another location," I said calmly, holding the phone against my ear.
The evening breeze lightly brushed past us, carrying the faint scent of rain that seemed to be approaching somewhere far away.
"The location will remain confidential for security reasons," I continued. "No one outside the circle will know where you are being moved."
Bhavya had quietly come to stand behind me. Even without turning around, I could sense her presence. And I could also sense the curiosity in her eyes. She had no idea what was happening, and the fragments of my conversation were clearly raising dozens of questions in her mind.
But to her credit, she remained silent.
Dr. Fertz spoke from the other side of the call, his voice calm but heavy with concern.
"I truly hope Mr. Rajvansh regains consciousness soon," he said softly. "You deserve to see him awake again."
"But Mrs. Arini," he continued after a pause, "I would like to request something."
I straightened slightly. "Yes?"
"I would like permission to return once every year... just for a day," he said slowly. "Actually, on my wedding anniversary."
His voice softened further. "I hope you won't mind that."
For a brief second, I looked down at the ground, processing his request.
Then I nodded immediately.
"Of course," I replied without hesitation. "You will absolutely be allowed to meet your family."
I shifted my weight slightly, leaning against the car again.
"You will also be able to call them regularly," I added. "The only restriction will be that the servers will be highly protected and monitored."
I paused before continuing. "I know I am being extremely selfish by asking all of you to relocate like this," I admitted quietly. "But you already understand the situation... I'm compelled to take these measures."
Dr. Fertz sighed gently.
"I understand," he said. "You're doing what you must."
There was a brief silence before he continued. "I'll inform you once everything is ready from our side. After that, your father can be shifted safely."
I gave a small nod, even though he couldn't see it. "Thank you, Doctor."
After ending the call, I lowered my phone and slipped it back into my bag. Then I finally turned around. Bhavya was still standing there. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were filled with questions she hadn't yet voiced.
I looked at her for a moment before speaking.
"Tomorrow," I said firmly, "8:30 AM sharp. Meet me in my cabin at SR Enterprises."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"I'll explain the situation then."
She hesitated for a second before asking quietly, "Is... Swayam sir in a coma?"
Her question hung in the air between us. I looked at her directly and slowly nodded.
"Yes."
The single word carried more weight than I intended.
Bhavya fell silent.
I could see the shock forming in her expression, the sudden realization that something much bigger had been unfolding behind the scenes.
I took a slow breath before continuing. "Bhavya, you've been working at SR Enterprises for almost a month now. And you're one of the most trusted people in my life."
Her eyes widened slightly at that statement.
"Because of that," I continued, "tomorrow I will tell you the entire story."
I paused for a moment. "Something you never knew about the company."
Then my voice lowered slightly. "And something deeply personal."
Bhavya didn't say anything after that. She simply nodded quietly, understanding that whatever truth waited tomorrow... it was going to change the way she saw everything.
I normally wouldn't have told her any of this.
Not because I didn't trust Bhavya, but because revealing truths like these always meant pulling someone deeper into a world they never asked to be part of. And once someone stepped into this world, there was no clean way out.
But the stakes had become far too high now.
The situation had crossed that invisible line where silence stopped being protection and started becoming a danger. Everyone around me already knew how close Bhavya was to me.
Anyone who had been observing my life carefully would easily notice it. She worked beside me, handled sensitive schedules, managed meetings, and had access to spaces most people never even entered.
To the outside world, she wasn't just my PA anymore. She was someone important. And that alone was enough to make her a potential target.
The truth was simple and brutal. Anyone who stayed around me long enough, willingly or unwillingly, ended up getting pulled into this chaos.
It didn't matter whether they understood it or not. And Bhavya... she was completely innocent. Completely unaware of the shadows that existed around my life.
That innocence was exactly what made her vulnerable. If someone wanted to get to me, targeting her would be the easiest option. And if she remained unaware of everything, she wouldn't even realize the danger until it was too late.
That was something I absolutely could not allow.
If she chose to leave the company after hearing the truth, that would honestly be the better outcome. At least then she would leave with awareness instead of blind trust. But if she stayed without knowing anything...
That would only make her an easy pawn in someone else's game.
Right now, the list of people who knew the truth was extremely small. Painfully small. Apart from me, only three people knew about Papa's condition and the entire situation surrounding it.
Aksh.
Aakarsh.
And Dr. Fertz.
And of course... the people who had attacked Papa in the first place.
Which meant somewhere out there, the enemy already knew more than they should. And tomorrow, Bhavya would become the fourth person on my side who knew everything.
The reason I had kept this information hidden from everyone else was very simple. The more people who knew, the easier it would become for Ikhail to reach them.
And Ikhail wasn't the kind of man who played fair. If he couldn't break someone mentally, he would break them physically. If he couldn't threaten them directly, he would capture them and use them as leverage. People around me could easily become bargaining chips.
And that was a risk I had been trying to avoid from the very beginning.
Aakarsh was the only exception to that rule. That man was practically built for chaos. He could probably stand in front of Godzilla itself and still come out of the fight looking bored. His brain worked like a weapon even when he appeared half asleep.
Most people underestimated him because of the way he behaved around Anu di. But the moment she appeared in front of him, it was almost comical.
His entire intelligence, instincts, and sharp thinking simply disappeared. Like someone had flipped a switch and shut down all six of his senses. Around her, he was just another foolish man hopelessly in love.
But outside that... he was terrifyingly capable.
Dr. Fertz was different. He had known me since the days I first joined Aakarsh's syndicate. Back when I was younger, more reckless, and constantly returning from missions with injuries that should have killed me. He had stitched wounds, treated fractures, and patched me up more times than I could count.
In many ways, he had seen the ugliest parts of my life. But eventually his wife forced him to leave Italy and return to India. She was tired of watching him work in a world filled with violence and danger. She wanted him somewhere safe. Somewhere normal.
And yet... when I approached him again after all these years, he didn't hesitate for even a second. Because he knew me. And I knew he was someone I could trust.
Then there was Aksh.
And that situation was... complicated.
Lately, he had been behaving strangely. Subtle changes. Small pauses. Moments where his expressions didn't match his words.
At first I ignored it.
But then I came across a few pieces of information that didn't quite fit with the version of himself he showed everyone. It made one thing very clear. Aksh was not as simple as he pretended to be.
He had cards hidden up his sleeves. Carefully hidden ones. But just because they were hidden didn't mean they didn't exist.
Normally I would have started digging into it immediately. Investigating him piece by piece until every secret came out.
But right now, I didn't have that kind of time. Italy was waiting.
And once I reached there, I was certain I would uncover everything he had been hiding. Sometimes answers didn't need long investigations. Sometimes all it took was standing in the right place.
Still, if there was one real danger in Aksh's life...
It wasn't his enemies.
It was Anavika di.
That woman would slit his throat with her own hands and still stand proudly over the body.
No guilt. No hesitation.
Nothing.
So honestly, if Aksh had survived living under the same roof as her in Rajasthan...
He could probably survive anything this world decided to throw at him.
IN RUSSIA ~ [ Underground Base of Bratva Special Unit ]
The underground corridor of the Bratva special unit stretched endlessly, its steel walls cold and silent, illuminated only by long strips of white fluorescent light that hummed faintly overhead. The air smelled faintly of machine oil, metal, and something older, something that carried the quiet weight of violence buried deep beneath the earth.
Ikhail walked through the hallway with slow but steady steps, the sound of his mechanical leg echoing faintly against the polished floor with every movement. The mechanical arm attached to his shoulder whirred almost silently as he flexed the fingers once, as if reminding himself that it still obeyed him.
Beside him walked his son, now older, taller, but still carrying the shadow of that boy who had once stood helpless in a ballroom years ago. His face remained composed, yet there was always a certain tension around his eyes whenever this corridor was visited.
The walls of the hallway were lined with framed photographs and records. Each frame carried images of powerful figures, Bratva operations, territories conquered, enemies destroyed, and alliances formed across decades of ruthless expansion.
But today Ikhail's gaze didn't linger proudly on any of those achievements. His eyes moved past them as if they meant nothing.
At the center of the hall stood a massive black screen mounted on the wall, currently glowing faintly as someone waited on the other end of a secure call. The screen showed nothing but a shadowed silhouette, identity concealed, voice muted for the moment.
Ikhail stopped a few feet away from it. His mechanical fingers curled slowly, the metal joints clicking softly in the quiet.
Then he spoke.
"Eight thousand people," he said slowly, his voice carrying a rough weight that sounded almost like restrained fury. "Eight thousand men... soldiers... strategists... killers. Eight thousand people that psychotic bitch slaughtered alone."
His gaze moved to the frames on the wall again, though he clearly wasn't seeing them.
"And the most humiliating part," he continued, his jaw tightening, "was that we didn't even know it was Arini Rajvansh."
The name hung in the cold air like poison.
"That night..." he muttered quietly.
His mechanical arm clenched into a fist. "That horrible night is still carved inside my memory like a scar. Not just a wound. A permanent scar that refuses to fade."
His eyes darkened with a mixture of rage and something far more unsettling.
Fear.
"The scar I received in the darkness of that night," he said slowly, "from an identity called... Darkness."
The room seemed to grow quieter. And the past returned like a nightmare reopening its eyes.
FLASHBACK — Four Years Ago
Arini was 21 years old
A grand celebration had been organized that night. Not just a simple gathering, but one of the most extravagant mafia assemblies the underworld had seen in years. The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, polished marble floors, and velvet drapes that reflected the warm golden glow of the lights.
Men from powerful syndicates around the world had arrived, each representing different territories, alliances, and empires built on blood and control.
Among the invited guests was even the King of the underworld himself.
Aakarsh Singh Rathore.
But Ikhail had already predicted that he would not come. After all, even as enemies, Ikhail believed he understood Aakarsh well enough.
Aakarsh never walked into traps.
And this entire party… was nothing but a beautifully designed trap.
Behind the smiling hosts, the clinking glasses, and the polite laughter, a darker plan had already been placed into motion. Every guest list had been carefully crafted. Every guard had been strategically positioned. Every camera, every corridor, every movement within the building was already mapped.
The goal was simple. Let the rivals relax. Let them celebrate.
And by the end of the night, eliminate them silently.
Everything had been planned with brutal precision. Elite Bratva guards stood across the ballroom like statues carved from stone, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Some of the most dangerous men within the Bratva ranks were present that night.
The strategist. The butcher. The executioners who had ended entire bloodlines without hesitation. They stood scattered among the guests, disguised in tailored suits and polite smiles.
But even the most ruthless man had a weakness. And Ikhail’s weakness was standing beside him.
His son.
For the first time, the Bratva heir had been brought out of the shadows and introduced to the world. He was only eighteen. Young. Sharp. But still untouched by the brutal lessons the underworld would eventually force him to learn.
The crowd had watched him with curiosity. Because tonight, they were witnessing the future leader of the Bratva empire.
For the first few minutes, everything appeared perfect. Glasses clinked together as alliances were hinted at. Powerful men laughed and congratulated one another, believing that perhaps the long chains of rivalry might finally end.
Some believed Ikhail was planning to unite with them. Some believed this gathering marked the beginning of peace.
But Ikhail knew better. By the time the night ended, many of these men would be dead. And their empires would quietly become his.
The ballroom was alive with soft music drifting from the orchestra balcony. Expensive perfumes floated through the air, mixing with the scent of polished wood and aged wine.
Golden chandeliers reflected across the marble floor while conversations overlapped into a low hum of wealth and power.
It looked like victory. It felt like control.
But then…
The lights changed. Slowly at first. The golden warmth began fading. Then the entire ballroom flooded with a deep, violent red.
Not a romantic red.
Not a decorative red.
But a suffocating blood red that crawled across the walls, the ceilings, and the faces of every guest like a warning written in light.
The music faltered mid note. Then stopped completely.
Conversations died instantly.
The red glow swallowed the golden chandeliers until the entire hall looked as though it had been dipped into blood.
The atmosphere tightened. Even the air felt heavier.
Then a single spotlight dropped sharply from above
It fell first on Ikhail.
Then on his son.
Then on the grand entrance of the ballroom.
Outside the tall glass doors, black cars rolled in one after another, their engines quiet but commanding. The headlights cut through the night like sharp blades. The vehicles parked in a perfect line, their glossy bodies reflecting the crimson light spilling from the ballroom.
For a moment, Ikhail thought it was Aakarsh who had arrived.
But the doors of the cars opened. Men stepped out.
All of them dressed in black. Their movements were precise, controlled, terrifyingly calm. Guns rested in their hands, knives glinted beneath their coats, and their expressions were cold enough to freeze the air itself. They spread out around the entrance like a silent army.
Then one of the car doors opened slowly.
A silhouette stepped out.
She was dressed in a dark crimson and black gown that looked less like clothing and more like a weapon crafted from shadows.
The dress clung to her figure through a structured corset bodice, sculpting her waist with ruthless precision. The corset was deep wine red beneath layers of intricate black lace, the patterns twisting across the fabric like dark vines creeping over blood-stained velvet. Under the crimson lights of the ballroom, the red beneath the lace seemed darker, richer, almost the same color as freshly spilled blood.
The neckline curved into a dramatic sweetheart shape, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones where a black gothic choker rested like a crown of darkness around her throat. Tiny metallic ornaments and a deep red gem hung from its center, catching the red light with a dangerous glimmer.
Thin ornamental chains draped from the corset, cascading down the front of her torso like delicate armor. Each movement she made caused them to sway slightly, the faint metallic sound whispering through the tense silence.
Below the corset, the gown transformed.
The skirt was layered in waves of black lace and soft tulle, building into a dramatic high low design. The front rose above her thighs, revealing long black stockings that clung to her legs like shadows, the lace tops visible just beneath the hemline.
But the sides and back of the dress were something else entirely.
They fell into cascading layers of dark lace, forming a long flowing train that trailed behind her like a living shadow. The lace shifted with every step she took, rippling softly, giving the eerie illusion that darkness itself was moving with her.
Hints of deep crimson fabric beneath the lace appeared and disappeared as the layers moved, like glimpses of hidden fire beneath smoke.
Decorative chains hung at her hips, some ending in small gothic pendants that swayed lightly as she walked. The metal caught the red light from the ballroom and flickered faintly, like quiet sparks in the dark.
And over all of it, draped from her head and flowing down her shoulders, was a sheer black veil. The veil was made of delicate translucent fabric, thin enough to move with the slightest breath of air yet dark enough to hide the details of her face. It fell softly over her hair and shoulders like a shadowed hood, its edges blending with the lace of her dress until it looked as if darkness itself had wrapped around her.
But none of them saw her face. Only the faint outline beneath the veil.
The crimson shine of red lipstick.
The cold gleam of red eyes staring through the sheer fabric.
And the suggestion of a dark mask hidden behind the veil, its shape barely visible through the thin black layer.
The veil shifted gently as she moved, briefly revealing flashes of those burning eyes before concealing them again, making her presence feel even more mysterious and unsettling.
When she stepped forward, the lace train slid across the marble floor behind her with a whispering sound, graceful yet ominous.
Her presence changed the air in the ballroom.
The men who had once laughed loudly now stood frozen, their glasses slowly lowering in their hands. Even the armed men near Ikhail felt an unfamiliar tension crawl up their spines.
Because she did not walk like someone entering a party. She walked like someone entering a battlefield she already owned.
Every step she took toward the entrance doors was calm, measured, and terrifyingly certain. The red light of the ballroom wrapped around her dark dress, making the crimson beneath the lace glow like a warning. And in that moment, standing beneath the blood colored lights with an army of armed men behind her and darkness flowing from the gown she wore, she did not look like a guest at a celebration.
She looked like the beginning of the massacre that celebration had unknowingly invited.
A cold, chilling voice finally slipped through the silence from behind that dark veil, the sound smooth yet bone-deep terrifying, like a whisper crawling through a graveyard at midnight.
"I hope I didn't break the dress code."
The words were soft, almost polite, yet the way they echoed through the blood-red ballroom made the air feel heavier, suffocating the laughter and arrogance that had filled the room just moments ago. Every man there felt it. That voice did not belong to someone who feared the consequences of her presence.
For a moment no one moved. No one breathed. Even the armed guards around the hall instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.
Ikhail was the first one to recover from the shock.
His eyes narrowed with fury and humiliation, the veins along his temple pulsing as his jaw tightened. A low scoff escaped his lips before he spoke, his voice echoing sharply across the hall.
"I don't entertain uninvited guests."
His gaze hardened as he raised his hand slightly and signaled one of the guards standing closest to the entrance.
"Guards." The command was simple, but everyone in the room understood what it meant.
The guard stepped forward immediately, his hand already reaching for the gun strapped to his side. But before he could even pull it out—
She lifted her hand. Just slightly.
Barely a movement. Her finger rotated in the air, not even a full motion, just a small, lazy gesture as if she were bored.
And then—
THUD.
The guard's body collapsed to the floor. Not shot. Not attacked from the front. His throat had been slit open in one swift, brutal motion by one of the black-clad men standing behind her.
The blade had moved so fast that no one even saw it happen.
Blood poured across the marble floor, spreading beneath his lifeless body as his eyes remained frozen wide open in shock.
A few men in the ballroom instinctively stepped back. Others reached for their weapons. But none of them fired. Because suddenly they realized something horrifying.
Those men behind her. They were not simply bodyguards. They were executioners.
Her voice came again, calm and almost amused. "But you did invite me."
She tilted her head slightly beneath the veil, as if studying Ikhail like a curious predator observing a struggling animal. "I pity your memory."
Then she reached up slowly. Her fingers caught the edge of the veil. And with a soft, whispering swish, the black fabric slid from her head and fell onto the marble floor.
The hall went completely silent. Her face was still partially hidden.
A black designer mask wrapped around her eyes and temples, crafted with sharp gothic elegance that only made her presence more dangerous.
But the most terrifying part was not the mask.
It was her eyes.
Bright crimson lenses glowed beneath the ballroom lights, reflecting the blood-red glow surrounding the hall. They looked unnatural, inhuman, like the eyes of something that did not belong among ordinary people.
And then she raised her hand. Between her fingers was a small metal emblem.
A symbol.
A lion and an eagle combined into one powerful crest.
The symbol of a realm that existed beyond ordinary criminal empires. A realm feared across continents. The emblem of a syndicate that ruled from shadows. Recognition spread through the hall like wildfire. It took only a fraction of a second. But that fraction was enough for every man present to understand what stood before them.
Ikhail scoffed loudly, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the slight shift in his confidence. "So he sent you?"
Her lips curved slowly into a smile. But it was not a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that belonged to someone who enjoyed the chaos they created.
"No."
Her voice softened dangerously. "I volunteered."
A few men exchanged uneasy glances. Ikhail suddenly burst into laughter, stepping forward with the arrogance of a man who had ruled through violence his entire life.
The sound of his boots echoed heavily against the marble floor as he approached her.
"Of course."
His smile twisted into something cruel. "People lose their minds when their death is near."
He stopped just a few steps away from her. His eyes scanned her slowly, calculating, analyzing.
"I can see that you volunteered."
He leaned slightly closer, his tone darkening with curiosity.
"But before I kill you… I would like to know who you are."
The moment he moved closer—
Her eyes sharpened.
And suddenly—
The lights went out.
Complete darkness swallowed the ballroom. Someone in the crowd gasped.
Another voice whispered nervously into the void. "Too much darkness…"
Then—
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound of heels echoed through the pitch-black room. Slow. Measured.
Each step calm, deliberate, echoing across the marble floor like the ticking of a countdown toward death. No one could see her. No one knew where she was.
Her voice emerged again from the darkness, deeper now, colder than before. "There is only one Darkness here."
Another step echoed. "And soon…"
The voice moved somewhere behind the crowd. "You will turn to ashes in it."
A pause. Then a whisper that felt like a blade sliding across skin.
"Or should I say… By it."
The lights flickered back on. And the entire hall froze.
Because she was no longer standing in front of Ikhail. She was standing behind his son.
Her arm wrapped around him like a shadow. A knife pressed firmly against his throat. A thin red line had already appeared beneath the blade, and a drop of blood slowly rolled down his neck.
Ikhail's eyes widened. He lunged forward instinctively. But the knife pressed deeper.
"Uh-huh…" Her voice carried mock disappointment.
"One more step…" The blade pushed slightly harder against the boy's throat.
"And you will lose your kid."
Her gaze lowered to the trembling boy. "The only successor to your empire."
The boy's body swayed slightly. His eyes were unfocused, heavy. Because the moment the lights had gone out, she had injected something into his neck.
A fast-acting sedative. His limbs were growing weak. His vision blurred. He could barely stand.
She spoke again. One single word.
"Kneel."
The command echoed through the hall like a gunshot. Ikhail didn't move immediately. For a fraction of a second his pride fought against the humiliation burning in his chest.
But that second was enough. The knife pressed deeper. Blood began to ooze slowly from the cut. And with a loud, defeated thud—
Ikhail dropped to his knees.
The sound echoed across the ballroom. One by one, the other mafia leaders followed.
Guards.
Strategists.
Killers.
Every powerful man in that room slowly lowered themselves onto their knees. The sight would have been unimaginable just minutes ago. The strongest criminals from across the world.
Kneeling.
Before a single woman.
She laughed. A slow, cruel laugh that rolled through the hall like poison.
"How does it feel?"
She circled slowly around Ikhail, the lace train of her gown dragging through the blood spreading across the marble floor. While one of her gaurd held his son captive .
"To be so powerless…" Her heels stopped right in front of him.
"That you must kneel. Even after being the strongest Bratva leader."
Her head tilted slightly. "Pathetic."
Her eyes flickered toward his son, who was barely conscious now.
"Love…" She chuckled softly.
"Is indeed a weakness."
Then she looked toward her men standing near the entrance. Her voice turned completely emotionless. "Kill each security member here."
She paused for a moment. Then corrected herself. "Actually…"
"Kill everyone."
Her gaze returned to Ikhail. A slow smile spreading across her lips.
"Except our powerful leader."
Her men obeyed instantly. The next second—
Gunshots exploded through the hall. One after another. Like fireworks celebrating a massacre. Bodies collapsed across the ballroom. Screams echoed. Blood splattered across the marble floor, the walls, the chandeliers.
Men who had ruled empires fell lifeless within seconds. The rivers of blood spread across the hall until it reached Ikhail's knees. Then climbed onto his clothes. His hands trembled as the warmth of their blood soaked into the fabric.
And standing in the center of that slaughter...
Surrounded by death, gunfire, and crimson shadows..
She looked less like a woman.
And more like the nightmare that had come to collect its debt..
When the final gunshot faded into silence, the ballroom no longer looked like a place meant for celebration.
It looked like a graveyard carved inside marble walls. The once polished floor had disappeared beneath spreading pools of blood, reflecting the crimson emergency lights like a distorted mirror of hell itself.
Bodies were scattered everywhere. Some collapsed over tables, some lay twisted near the grand pillars, and others remained slumped in their chairs as if death had caught them mid breath. The smell of gunpowder mixed with iron filled the air so thickly that breathing itself felt heavy.
The laughter, the music, the arrogance that had filled this room only minutes ago had vanished.
Now there was only silence. And death.
Standing in the center of that massacre, she slowly exhaled, as if releasing a weight she had carried for years. Then she chuckled.
It was not loud, but it carried through the silent hall like something broken finally finding satisfaction.
"The war you started…"
Her voice was low, steady, yet beneath it lived something much darker. Something wounded and furious that had waited a long time for this moment.
"...by killing someone so precious to me when I was eighteen…"
She turned slightly, her crimson eyes settling on Ikhail, who still knelt helplessly on the blood soaked floor while his unconscious son hung weakly in her grip.
"...will now be ended by me." Her gaze shifted to the boy, her expression growing colder.
"When your son is eighteen." The words settled over the room like a curse carved into stone.
"A scar that ruined me for years…"
Her voice dropped lower, quieter, but somehow even more dangerous.
"...will be returned to you."
A slow breath left her lips as she looked down at the carnage surrounding them.
"And it will burn you…" Her eyes met Ikhail's again.
"...until your last breath."
She lifted her hand slightly and gave a small nod.
One of her men immediately moved toward the wall where a projector was installed for presentations and strategic meetings. With a quiet mechanical click, the device turned on.
The blank white wall flickered. Then the footage began. The first image showed one of Bratva's major bases.
Or what remained of it. The entire compound was burning.
Flames climbed the concrete walls like hungry beasts devouring their prey. Windows shattered outward as explosions ripped through the structure, sending smoke spiraling into the night sky. Men ran through the corridors in panic, some screaming, some desperately trying to escape the inferno.
But there was no escape.
Another clip appeared. A second base. Collapsed.
The building had been reduced to rubble, its structure broken like a crushed skeleton beneath falling debris. Bodies of guards lay scattered among the wreckage while fire continued to consume what remained.
Then a third location.
Vehicles exploding in the parking lot. Armed guards trapped behind locked gates while flames swallowed the compound around them. Screams echoed through the footage.
Desperate voices shouting orders that no longer mattered. Gunfire.
Then silence.
Clip after clip played across the screen, each one showing another base destroyed, another stronghold reduced to ashes.
Ikhail stared at the wall, his breathing growing heavier with each passing second.
Everything he had built. Every fortress. Every army. Every secret location he had hidden across countries.
Burning. Falling. Turning into smoke. The footage continued for several minutes, each scene worse than the last.
Until finally the screen went black. The projector light faded, leaving only the red glow of the emergency lights bathing the ruined ballroom.
She spoke again. Her tone now eerily calm.
"Now…" She took a slow step closer to Ikhail.
"The same will happen to you."
Her eyes drifted toward the unconscious boy again. "And your son."
Her gaze hardened, and the cruelty in it became undeniable.
"And the drugs I've given him…" A faint smile touched her lips, though there was no warmth in it.
"It will end his generations."
Ikhail's eyes widened.
"You killed my family." Her voice remained steady, almost emotionless now.
"So I ended yours."
She tilted her head slightly as if explaining something obvious.
"Even if he survives tonight…" Her gaze lingered on the boy's pale face.
"He will need a vasectomy." A quiet pause followed.
"Otherwise the chemical compound I injected will slowly turn into cancer."
The words were delivered with horrifying calm.
"His bloodline… ends here."
She then reached into a small metallic case held by one of her men and pulled out a syringe. The liquid inside shimmered faintly beneath the red lights.
Her eyes returned to Ikhail. "You killed them so brutally."
Her voice lowered again, carrying the weight of a memory she had never forgotten.
"You watched them suffer." Another step forward.
"As if it was a cartoon."
Before he could react, she grabbed his arm and stabbed the syringe straight into his vein. The needle slid beneath his skin with brutal precision.
"This one…" She slowly pushed the liquid into his bloodstream.
"...will kill you slowly."
She removed the syringe and let it drop onto the blood soaked floor. Then she reached behind her waist and pulled out a dagger. The blade gleamed beneath the dim red lights, its sharp edges reflecting faint streaks of blood scattered across the marble.
She twirled it lightly in her hand. "This was how it looked…"
Her eyes locked onto his. "...the weapon you used."
Her voice grew quieter. "The same kind of dagger."
Then suddenly—
The blade drove straight into his right thigh.
The sound of metal piercing flesh echoed sickeningly through the hall.
Ikhail screamed.
His body jerked forward violently as pain tore through his nerves.
Before the scream even finished—
A second dagger plunged into his right arm.
The force of it sent his body collapsing forward.
He fell to the ground with a choked yelp, his body curling instinctively as agony ripped through him. Blood quickly spread beneath him, mixing with the already soaked floor.
She looked down at him without a hint of sympathy.
"Scream." Her voice was cold.
"Cry." Her gaze sharpened.
"Yelp, you rascal." A faint smile returned to her lips.
"You deserve this." She turned away from him slowly.
The long lace train of her gown dragged through the blood as she began walking toward the grand exit doors of the ballroom. Behind her, something else had begun.
Fire.
Small flames curled along the velvet curtains first. Then climbed the wooden wall panels. Within seconds they spread outward, licking the walls hungrily as smoke began filling the high ceiling.
The fire moved like a living monster. Devouring the building. Swallowing everything it touched. Chandeliers cracked and fell.
Furniture ignited. The flames grew taller, brighter, until the entire hall was slowly turning into a burning tomb.
Behind her, Ikhail's body finally collapsed completely. The pain and poison flooding his system became too much.
His vision blurred. And he fainted. His son lay unconscious beside him, completely unaware of the destruction surrounding them.
But the devil who had created that destruction did not look back. She walked through the massive doors without hesitation.
Her men followed silently behind her. Outside, the cold night air waited.
And she left the burning building behind. Leaving nothing inside except fire. Blood. And the beginning of Ikhail's endless nightmare.
FLASHBACK ENDS ~
FLASHBACK ENDS ~
The memory shattered like broken glass, dragging the present back into the dim underground base buried deep within Russia. The cold metallic corridor of the Bratva Special Unit returned into focus, its concrete walls heavy with silence and history.
But despite the strength his body now carried through machinery, the shadow in his eyes still belonged to that night.
The night she came.
The night everything burned.
His jaw tightened slowly as the memory still clawed through his mind.
"If that day… you hadn't come there…" Ikhail finally spoke, his voice rough and low, like gravel being dragged across stone.
He stared directly at the blank screen in front of him, even though the man behind it remained hidden.
"The world would have forgotten that Ikhail… and his son… ever existed."
His mechanical fingers curled slowly into a fist, the faint grinding of steel echoing quietly in the room. For a brief moment, his gaze flickered with something deeper than rage. Something darker.
Fear.
Because he knew the truth. That night had not been a battle.
It had been a massacre.
Even now, four years later, the humiliation still burned through his veins like poison.
"Even after all that…" he continued slowly, his tone thick with restrained fury.
"It still took us four years… to know that it was Arini Rajvansh."
The name itself seemed to poison the air.
Arini Rajvansh.
Or as the underworld had come to know her.
Darkness.
The hall fell silent again. The screen in front of them remained completely black. Not a flicker. Not a silhouette.
Nothing.
Just pitch black.
But everyone in the room knew that someone was there, watching them from the other side. Then finally, a voice came from the speakers. Smooth. Cold. Controlled.
"But this time…" the man spoke slowly, almost thoughtfully. "She will be the one to lose."
His voice carried an unsettling calmness, the kind that only belonged to someone who had already planned every possible outcome. Ikhail's son, who had been standing beside him until now, finally stepped slightly forward. He was no longer the weak eighteen year old boy who had nearly died that night.
Four years had hardened him. The softness in his face had disappeared, replaced by something sharper, colder. But one thing still remained. Curiosity. And suspicion. Along with cruel reminder of his ended generations .
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the blank screen.
"But who is the other man helping us besides him?" he asked, his voice carrying a sharp edge of impatience.
The silence that followed felt heavier this time. "Who is he?"
His gaze hardened further. "Who is helping us?"
The screen remained pitch black. But it wasn't the emptiness of a turned off monitor. It felt intentional. As if the man behind it had chosen darkness deliberately, making sure no one could see even the faintest hint of his identity.
His face remained hidden. Completely concealed. For several seconds, no one spoke. The silence thickened until it almost became suffocating.
Then finally, the voice returned. Almost amused.
"Someone very sharp-minded." The man spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing each word.
"He is a predator." A faint pause followed.
"Ruthless." Another pause.
"Patient. But not like us . He is very different in control and power ."
His tone carried something almost admiring, as if he truly respected the person he was describing. "I convinced him… to hunt her."
Somewhere behind that dark screen, a faint smirk slowly curved across unseen lips. The manipulation clearly pleased him.
"The story I fed him…" he continued, his voice now carrying a subtle hint of amusement.
"Was fake."
Ikhail's son's brows furrowed slightly, but the man continued speaking before anyone could interrupt.
"But that doesn't matter to me." His tone grew colder.
More calculating. "Truth is irrelevant… when desire is involved."
There was a quiet confidence in the way he spoke, the confidence of someone who understood human weakness better than anyone else.
"I didn't tell him the entire identity." His voice lowered slightly.
"I only gave him a name to hunt."
A small pause followed. One word. Heavy. Dangerous.
"Darkness."
The name echoed through the silent room like a whisper crawling across graves.
"And while he hunts down Darkness…" the voice continued slowly.
"We… will hunt Arini Rajvansh."
Then he paused. Almost deliberately correcting himself.
"No…" A quiet chuckle followed.
"Arini Singhania."
The correction carried meaning. Possession. Knowledge.
Obsession.
His voice darkened as he spoke again, the calmness now mixing with something far more dangerous. "Because I want her."
The words came out slow. Deliberate. "And I can go through any means to get her."
His tone dropped even further, becoming almost intimate in its darkness.
"Manipulation." A pause.
"Lies." Another pause.
"Destruction."
The faint sound of his breathing echoed through the speakers. "It doesn't matter."
Then his voice turned colder. Almost dismissive.
"You all can have her empire." Another pause.
"Her power." Another.
"Her wealth." His final words came out quieter.
But far more dangerous. "I just want the person."
Silence swallowed the room again. And then he finished.
Slowly. Almost reverently.
"The menace herself."
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[20.1 K+ Words ]
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^_^ Thank you so much for reading this chapter, dear Violets. I truly appreciate your time and support—it means a great deal to me. Your support inspires me and I'm grateful to have you with me on this journey. Until next time, keep blooming beautifully. 💜
Your Author ~ ITA 🫶
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