Knock. Knock.

Aadhira's eyes fluttered open, the warm sunlight streaming through the curtains forcing her to shut them tightly again. The golden rays painted patterns on her face, but the persistent knocking disrupted the serenity of the morning.

Knock. Knock.

She clicked her tongue, irritation bubbling to the surface. Throwing off her blanket, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her muscles aching slightly as she stretched out her arms and legs. The gentle creak of the bed was drowned out by another call.

"Aadhira?"

Her annoyance wavered at the sound of that familiar voice. It was her father. That realization brought a faint smile to her lips, chasing away the grogginess that clung to her.

Aadhira stood up and walked to the door, her movements slow as the weight of her thoughts lingered. She opened it, and there he was-her father, smiling softly, his eyes glimmering with affection.

"May I come in, Princess?" His voice was warm, carrying that unmistakable charm. His politeness, his gentlemanly nature, always made her heart swell with admiration. She had always wished for a boy like him in her life-someone who could make her feel cherished and safe.

But deep down, Aadhira's smile faded slightly as she let him in. There was a part of her that couldn't ignore the growing discontent. Despite his kindness, despite how much she adored him, there was one thing that made her heart ache: he could never take a stand. He couldn't protect the ones he loved, even when he knew they were right.

Just the day before, Aadhira had sensed it-his silent support, his eyes telling her he trusted her. But in the end, he hadn't said a word, hadn't stepped forward when it mattered most. It hurt. It made her wonder if anyone in her life truly had the courage to stand up for what was right, for what mattered. And it only served to reinforce what she already knew: her father was a coward, paralyzed by his own fear.

But there was one person who stood apart from the rest-someone who embodied everything Aadhira had ever dreamed of in a prince charming. Viaansh.

She had seen his courage the very first day they met. A memory that played vividly in her mind-when a group of boys had surrounded her, their intentions clear in the way they smirked and whispered among themselves. Aadhira, terrified, could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Then, out of nowhere, Viaansh appeared. No words, no warnings. He didn't even raise his hands, yet his presence was enough to stop the chaos in its tracks. His eyes never wavered, his gaze unwavering as he faced the group, his stance unshaken by the threat of violence. The boys, sensing his confidence, faltered. Not a hint of fear touched his face as he stood there, as if he didn't care about the potential pain or the consequences.

For Aadhira, it was a revelation. In that moment, she realized something she had always longed for: courage, not just in words but in actions. Viaansh was everything that her father couldn't be-yet, in many ways, he was everything her father was, except a coward. He had the same kindness, the same gentleness, but with a fire that burned deep within him, a resolve to stand up, to protect, and to never back down. He was the kind of person who could keep her safe, who could challenge the world without hesitation, and that made all the difference.

Aadhira sat on the rotating chair, its smooth motion a distraction as she swiveled back and forth, her thoughts clouded with the weight of unspoken words. Her father, Abhishek, sat on the edge of the bed, his posture stiff, as if he were waiting for a storm to pass. The silence between them seemed thick, almost tangible.

"You're still angry?" Abhishek asked hesitantly, his voice betraying the uncertainty he tried to mask. His eyes flickered toward her, searching for any hint of her thoughts, but Aadhira's face was calm, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

She exhaled, the frustration from earlier melting away, but a sharp clarity remained in her gaze. "Not anymore," she replied softly, but with a resolve that he knew all too well. "But today, we'll talk and make things clear."

Abhishek nodded, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, the room fell into another stretch of silence. Then, as if compelled by an invisible force, he spoke again.

"Your mother told me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with significance.

"She's really guilty, you know?" Abhishek's voice was low as he looked directly into Aadhira's eyes, searching for any flicker of understanding. "For slapping you."

Aadhira's gaze hardened; the memory of the sting still fresh in her mind. "She shouldn't have slapped me, Dad," she replied, her voice tinged with disappointment, the words slipping out more as a statement than an accusation.

Abhishek looked away, his face a mix of guilt and helplessness. "I know, but you know her anger. She's out of control sometimes."

Aadhira sighed, her chest tightening with frustration. She had heard the same excuse countless times, and it no longer held any weight. "Do you have anything specific to talk about or are you just here to defend your wife?" she asked, her voice calm but sharp, the edge of her words not lost on him. "If that's the reason, then you may go, because I don't want to remember yesterday. Everything will be normal soon."

Her words hung in the air, unspoken hurt and a quiet resolve swirling around them. She wasn't asking for justification anymore; she was simply trying to move forward. And if that meant swallowing the painful truth of her family's dynamics, then so be it. But she wouldn't allow herself to be caught in an endless cycle of blame. Not this time.

Abhishek stood up, his expression softening as he tried to offer a semblance of normalcy. "Get ready and come downstairs soon. We'll have breakfast together," he said, his voice gentle, though it carried an undertone of finality. He patted her head in a gesture that was both affectionate and automatic, as if trying to bridge the gap between them with a simple act of tenderness. Then, without another word, he closed the door behind him, leaving Aadhira alone in the stillness of her room.

Aadhira let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she stared at the door. The weight of the conversation lingered in the air, unresolved, and the silence felt heavy. It was as if no matter what she did, the walls of her family's dysfunction would always remain-standing tall, unyielding. She longed for peace, for things to fall into place, but the cracks were too deep. Sighing again, she pushed herself up, knowing that the day would go on whether she was ready or not.

Aadhira stepped into the shower, the hot water rushing over her skin, instantly soothing the tension that clung to her body. She tilted her head back, letting the droplets cascade down her neck and over her curves, the steam enveloping her in a warm haze. Her fingers brushed through her wet hair, feeling the sensual glide of water against her skin, the sensation almost addictive.

She ran her hands down her body, the soap lathering smoothly as she traced the contours of her skin, her breath catching slightly at the heat. Her pulse quickened as she lingered, feeling the water pulse against her, the intimate moments of the shower making her forget the world outside. Every drop, every touch, heightened her senses, leaving her skin tingling as she finally stepped out, the cool air grazing her flushed skin.

Aadhira stepped out of the shower; her skin still warm from the steam. She wrapped herself in a soft towel, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders. Moving quickly, she chose a woolen blue lower that hugged her figure just right and paired it with a simple white full-sleeve T-shirt. The soft fabric felt cozy against her skin. She added a blue cardigan on top, the color matching the calmness she was trying to embrace.

After quickly running a brush through her hair, letting it fall in loose waves, she applied a light touch of makeup-just enough to highlight her natural features. She looked at her reflection, her expression calm but determined, before stepping toward the door, ready for the day ahead.

On her way downstairs, Aadhira unlocked her phone, scrolling for any unseen messages. One caught her attention immediately.

Viaansh: Good morning, Princess ;) Best of luck for the convo.

A smile tugged at her lips, warmth spreading through her as she quickly typed back.

Aadhira: Good morning, Prince ;) I needed that wish. Thank you.

Just as she sent the reply, another notification lit up her screen. It was from Mishri.

Mishri: Don't get hyper while talking to your family, okay baby?

Aadhira chuckled softly, rolling her eyes affectionately as she replied, Of course, before slipping her phone back into her pocket. Despite the heaviness of the morning, these small reminders of love and support lightened her steps as she made her way downstairs.

As Aadhira entered the dining room, the hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt, and every gaze turned to her. The sudden attention caught her off guard, and she froze for a moment, her eyes darting between the faces watching her.

Adrit rose from his seat with a theatrical flourish, pulling out a chair with exaggerated politeness. "For you, Princess," he said, flashing a teasing smile.

Aadhira arched a brow, her lips curling into a sly grin. Instead of taking the offered seat, she walked over and sat gracefully in the chair Adrit had vacated. She met his gaze with a playful defiance. "I believe in self-service," she said sassily, crossing her arms as if daring him to challenge her.

Adrit let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he plopped back into another seat. "Drama queen," he muttered under his breath, though his smirk betrayed his amusement.

Abhishek chuckled, shaking his head at their antics. "Breakfast hasn't even started, and you two are already at it."

Aadhira couldn't help but smile, the tension in the room easing as the familiar banter set the tone for the morning.

She glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping over the faces turned expectantly toward her. Every pair of eyes sparkled with hope, their silent anticipation forming a weight she could already feel pressing on her shoulders. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips, breaking the charged silence, and as if on cue, everyone responded with reassuring smiles.

She sighed, the sound carrying the exhaustion of a battle she hadn't even begun to fight. Her thoughts churned with quiet resignation, "This isn't going to be a piece of cake."



~

•24th October, 2024•~

~•West Bengal, Siliguri•~

~• Rudra Vihar Mansion•~

C

rash.

The shattering vase echoed through the vast, open hall like a thunderclap, the sound ricocheting off the high ceilings and ornate walls. Fragments scattered across the polished marble floor, catching the light like jagged little stars.

The next sound was mine.

"How dare you?" I said, my voice calm-painfully, unnaturally calm.

Every helper in the house froze mid-task, their gazes snapping toward us. The sweeping, dusting, and arranging all ceased, and now the only movement in the room came from the person standing across from me. Or rather, their trembling hands.

"S-sorry, sir," the figure stammered, their words barely coherent through their quivering lips. "I didn't me-mean to ki-kill h-him."

My head tilted slightly, my lips curling into a faint smile that held no warmth. "You didn't mean to?" I repeated, my tone dripping mockery.

They flinched, their eyes darting to the scattered shards at my feet as though searching for refuge. "Sir, he... he went out of control."

I took a step closer, the sound of my shoes slicing through the silence like a blade. "Out of control?" My voice was low now, almost a whisper, but the menace behind it made the words heavier than any shout could.

"You went out of control," I hissed, each word deliberate. "I told you-I wanted to be the one to kill him."

They froze, their breath hitching audibly. A wave of murmurs swept through the onlookers, but I didn't turn. My attention stayed locked on the person who had dared to defy me.

"And yet here we are," I continued, spreading my arms slightly to encompass the moment. "He's dead. By your hand."

The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of my words pressing down on the room. The helpers looked at one another nervously, unsure whether to intervene or flee.

"Well?" I asked finally, my voice slicing through the tension. "What do you have to say for yourself now?"

The man collapsed to his knees with a thud, his palms hitting the cold marble floor as he sobbed uncontrollably. His trembling hands rose in a pleading gesture, clasped together as if in prayer.

"Sir, please," he begged, his voice breaking into desperate gasps. "Forgive me. Please... It won't happen again. I swear on my unborn child-my wife, she's seven months pregnant. Please, sir. I'm begging you."

I tilted my head, watching him with detached amusement. The corners of my mouth lifted into a chuckle-soft, deliberate, cruel.

"Your wife?" I said, my tone almost conversational. "Don't worry about her." I paused, my eyes narrowing as I stepped closer. "Worry about yourself."

He froze mid-sob, staring up at me in wide-eyed terror.

"You killed my prey," I continued, my voice chillingly calm. "And now..." I leaned down slightly, locking eyes with him. "Be ready to become mine."

"Si-" The sound barely escaped his lips before the gunshot rang out, sharp and final.

He crumpled to the floor, lifeless. The stillness of his body was almost serene, save for the small, dark hole perfectly placed in the center of his forehead. A slow stream of blood trickled down, pooling beneath his head in a grotesque halo. Otherwise, he looked eerily untouched, as if death had taken him with a strange kind of mercy.

I straightened, adjusting my jacket with a flick of my wrist. My gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of every person present. The helpers looked on, their faces pale, but their expressions betrayed no shock. No gasps, no cries-just a quiet, resigned disappointment, like spectators at a show that had become far too predictable.

I chuckled again, a low, humorless sound. "What's the matter?" I asked, spreading my arms as if addressing an unenthusiastic audience. "Not impressed? Well, I guess I'll have to be more creative next time."

Their silence was answer enough. I turned away, leaving the bloodied body and the shards of the vase behind as I strode out of the hall, already thinking about what-or who-would entertain me next.

I walked out to the sprawling garden behind the mansion, the cool night air brushing against my face. The scent of freshly trimmed grass mixed with the faint aroma of blooming flowers, but it did little to lighten my mood. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, dialing a familiar number.

The call connected on the second ring.

"Yes, Mr. Khurana?" came the voice, calm and professional. "How can I help you?"

"There's a body in my house," I said matter-of-factly, my tone devoid of emotion. "Take care of it. And..." I paused, glancing up at the moonlight filtering through the trees. "Make sure the wife of the dead man is given all the financial and medical support she needs-for the next 25 years. No excuses."

"Yes, sir," he replied promptly.

I turned, looking at the grand silhouette of the mansion behind me. The faint remnants of tension from the hall clung to the air, but I ignored it. "I need to get freshened up," I said, my voice dropping slightly, as if discussing a private indulgence. "You know what to send."

"Of course, sir. Where shall I have it sent?"

"To my room."

Without waiting for a response, I ended the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket. The night was quiet again, save for the faint rustle of the leaves in the breeze. I stood there for a moment, letting the coolness seep into my skin before turning back toward the mansion.

It was going to be a long night.

As I stepped into the mansion, the still air was thick with the remnants of tragedy. The body had been removed, but the blood-dark, sticky, and impossible to erase-was still there. A grim reminder of what had transpired, staining the floor in a macabre pattern.

"Why hasn't this been cleaned yet?" I asked, my voice barely rising above a murmur, but the weight of the question hung heavily in the air.

"Sorry, sir," came the apologetic response from one of the housekeepers, her hands trembling as she avoided meeting my gaze.

I didn't answer her, the frustration building quietly inside me. Instead, I turned away and walked up the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing through the cavernous halls. Each step felt like a reminder of the emptiness that lingered here-how much had been lost, how much was still left to unravel. Reaching my room, I closed the door behind me with a soft click, locking myself in a cocoon of silence. The world outside could wait. For now, I needed to gather my thoughts... and bury the rising storm inside me.

I undressed slowly, the fabric of my dress slipping off my shoulders like a final veil of the day's burdens. I tossed it into the laundry basket, the fabric hitting the sides with a soft thud, as if marking the end of a chapter.

I made my way to the bathroom, the soft glow of the lights casting shadows against the tiles. The warm water in the bathtub had already been prepared for me, the steam rising in delicate curls, carrying the faint scent of lavender. It was as though the world outside had faded, leaving me to the comfort of this fleeting moment of solitude.

I stepped into the tub, the water enveloping me like a familiar embrace. My muscles loosened, and the weight of the day seemed to dissolve, carried away by the gentle swish of the water. I leaned back, resting my head against the cool edge of the tub, closing my eyes. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to forget the bloodstained floors, the unanswered questions, and the overwhelming uncertainty of what awaited me. Only the rhythmic sound of my breathing and the warmth of the bath remained, soothing me into a fragile peace.

I didn't know when I fell asleep, but the gentle lull of the warm water had seduced me into a dreamlike state. My body relaxed deeper, the tension of the day slowly fading into the embrace of silence.

It wasn't until I felt the soft pressure on my scalp that I stirred. The sensation of delicate fingers kneading into my skin pulled me from my slumber. I blinked my eyes open, the fog of sleep still clouding my thoughts for a moment. Then, like a long-awaited dream materializing before me, I saw her. The one I'd been waiting for.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I gazed at her, the anticipation and warmth mixing in my chest. "You're late," I whispered, my voice thick with sleep and desire.

She glanced up at me, her eyes glimmering with that same familiar spark. "Not my fault. Khanna told me late that you need me," she replied, her voice soft but teasing.

Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers brushing over hers as I pulled her gently into the water. The air between us thickened, electric with a quiet intimacy. She sank gracefully into the tub, her body pressing against mine as she laid across me. Her warmth melted into me, and I closed my eyes again, savoring the moment. The world outside, the unanswered questions, the bloodstained floors-all of it ceased to exist in that fleeting bubble of time. All that mattered now was the feel of her against me, the shared silence, and the fragile yet undeniable connection between us.

Her voice broke the silence, playful and teasing, as she slowly slid her hands over her body. "Look, I bought new lingerie. Only for you," she said with a wink, the promise of something more hidden in her mischievous smile.

I shifted my gaze, my eyes falling on her. She was dressed in delicate white sheer lingerie, the soft fabric clinging to her curves, almost daring me to reach out and trace every inch of it. My lips curled into a half-smile as I raised an eyebrow, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Why do you waste the little money you have on these things, when you know they'll just be torn off once you come to me?"

Her laugh echoed softly, a sweet sound that vibrated in the air between us. She chuckled, the warmth in her eyes matching the playful glint in her gaze. "You're terrible," she murmured, but the teasing smile on her lips told me she didn't mind. She liked this side of me-the part that never held back, that always spoke my mind.

And in that moment, with her so close, it wasn't just the lingerie or the teasing words that mattered. It was the unspoken understanding between us-the undeniable tension and the quiet longing that had always existed, simmering beneath the surface.

She leaned in, her breath warm against my skin, as she closed the distance between us. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and I could feel the energy between us shift-heavy with unspoken desires. She settled on my lap, her body pressing against mine in a way that made everything else fade away. Her lips found mine in a kiss that was tender yet urgent, filled with a passion that needed no explanation.

I closed my eyes, letting her take the lead, her hands exploring with an intensity that mirrored the fire building between us. There was no rush, just the sensation of her against me, the moment stretching out in an intoxicating rhythm.

Without breaking the kiss, she whispered against my lips, her voice laced with desire, "I want to do this on the bed."

I nodded, the weight of her words sending a rush of anticipation through me. "You go ahead. I'll be right there."

She pulled back, her eyes locking with mine as she left the warmth of the water behind. She stepped out of the bathtub with graceful ease, the soft flicker of the bathroom light casting shadows on her silhouette. She glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smile that promised more to come and walked towards the door.

I stayed there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me, before following her, the anticipation now nearly unbearable.

I stepped out of the bathroom, completely naked, and my heart raced.

There she was.

She lay on the bed, her eyes fixed on me. A soft smile played on her lips, warm and inviting. In that moment, everything else faded. The world outside disappeared, and it was just us.

I felt exposed yet unafraid. Her gaze wrapped around me like a gentle embrace. It was more than just a look; it was an invitation.

I took a breath, feeling the electricity in the air. There was a connection here, deeper than skin. The warmth of her smile told me everything I needed to know. She appreciated me, just as I was. I stepped closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. This was a moment to cherish.

In that shared silence, we understood. We were two souls, completely in tune, ready to explore what lay ahead.

I hovered over her, the air thick with anticipation. Without wasting a moment, I leaned in and kissed her.

First, my lips met hers, soft and warm. Then, I traced a path along her jawline, savoring the closeness. I let my lips wander to her collarbone, feeling a rush of intimacy with each touch.

Returning to her lips, I stole a brief kiss. The moment felt electric. With a gentle tug, I unhooked her bra, knowing this was a step closer to something deeper.

I sat on the bed staring at the beautiful red bosoms, perked up, showing how much turn-on she is for me.

Unable to control herself she pulled my head towards her left breast, "Suck it." I chuckled at her eagerness.

"Fast," She said eagerly. I latched on her nipple while playing with the other one. I sucked it, used my teeth, and whatnot. I repeated the same play on the other one.

Not being able to control anymore, I switched our places. Now she was above me. I pushed her face down and now she was facing my dick. She started licking it.

I sighed in satisfaction. She sat over me and took me inside her. I exhaled a long breath feeling the warmth. I could hear her voice of pain and pleasure,

"Move... faster... Aa-Aadhira"

She started moving faster. The urgency in her moves echoed the weight of the moment. Time was slipping away, and she knew it.

She bent down to kiss me. Her lips brushed against mine, but it wasn't the kiss I had hoped for. I felt tears streaming down her face.

The sorrow was palpable. Each droplet told a story of loss, of fear. I could see it in her eyes-the shadows of despair lurking behind the light.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled back slightly, searching my face for something she couldn't find.

The silence hung heavy between us. It was a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting. I wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but something held me back. Perhaps it was the realization that this was the end.

Her tears fell like rain, mixing with the darkness that surrounded us. The weight of unspoken words filled the air, pressing down on my chest.

In that moment, I understood. Her tears were not just for what we were losing. They were for the dreams that would never come to pass, for the future that lay shattered at our feet.

And as she leaned in again, I felt the chill of inevitability. This kiss was a farewell, a promise that even in darkness, love lingers.

The kiss was electric. Then it shattered.

A phone call. I groaned, torn from the moment.

"Hello?" I answered, irritation creeping into my voice.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Khurana. We really need you in the company."

"Right now?"

"Yes, Sir."

I glanced at the girl sprawled across my bed. Her expression was unreadable. I cut the call. "I need to go to Imperium Arms."

No time to wait for a response. I rushed to the washroom, splashing water on my face, trying to shake off the haze of distraction.

When I stepped out, she was gone.

I moved to the walk-in closet. I needed to get ready, but my mind raced.

I needed to focus. I had a job to do. The weight of responsibility pressed down on me. The company, the call-it all demanded my attention.

I rifled through my clothes, my heart pounding.

This was not the night I had planned. But life rarely follows our script.

I stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of my tailored shirt. The fabric, a deep charcoal gray, felt cool against my skin-a reminder of the power I wielded, the image I curated. Power, after all, begins with perception.

The scent of my cologne, woody with a hint of spice, lingered in the air as I reached for my cufflinks. Small, understated, yet expensive-much like myself. I clipped them on with practiced precision, each click a reminder of the meticulousness required in my line of work.

Cigarette smoke from the night before clung faintly to the corners of my room. It was a habit I knew I should quit, but some vices have a way of tethering you to sanity. I inhaled deeply, not of smoke but of the calm that came with routine, and ran a hand through my hair.

The reflection that stared back was familiar yet unsettling. The man I saw was immaculate, his face clean-shaven, his eyes sharp. Yet, beneath the surface, I knew the cracks existed. I could feel them-each deal, each betrayal, leaving its mark. But weakness is a luxury I cannot afford.

I reached for my watch-sleek, black, and understatedly elegant. It was a gift to myself after closing my first major deal, a reminder of how far I'd come and how far I still intended to go.

The sound of the clock ticking pulled me out of my thoughts. Time waits for no one, not even me. I slipped on my jacket, straightened my tie, and gave the mirror one last look. The man staring back looked every bit the part-controlled, commanding, composed.

I smiled, though there was no joy in it. Charm is a weapon, and I intended to use it tonight. The world outside awaited, and I had no intention of leaving it unchanged.

The air felt heavier as I descended the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing in the stillness. The staff avoided my gaze, their silence a practiced art. At the door, my car waited-a sleek, black beast ready to devour the night. The driver opened the door for me, his posture stiff, his expression neutral.

"To the office," I said, my voice colder than the midnight breeze.

The car sped through the city, a blur of neon lights and shadowed alleys. Inside, the silence was broken only by the hum of the engine. My thoughts, however, were far from quiet. The night had begun with chaos, and now it stretched before me like an endless labyrinth, each turn more treacherous than the last.

At Imperium Arms, the atmosphere was charged. The sprawling complex gleamed under artificial light, a fortress of glass and steel. Inside, a group of men in suits waited, their faces etched with tension. As I entered, they straightened, their deference immediate and absolute.

"What's the situation?" I asked, cutting through the pleasantries.

One of them stepped forward, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the weight of bad news. "Sir, there's been a breach. Our shipment to the Middle East was intercepted. We suspect an insider might be involved."

An insider. The word hung in the air like a challenge.

"Names," I demanded, my gaze sharp enough to draw blood.

He hesitated. "We don't have a clear suspect yet, but we're narrowing it down. The breach was sophisticated-someone knew exactly where and when to strike."

I clenched my jaw, my mind already piecing together the implications. Betrayal from within was the worst kind-it cut deeper than any enemy ever could.

"Find them," I said, my voice a blade. "And when you do, bring them to me."

The room shifted, the men exchanging uneasy glances. They knew what that meant.

"And the shipment?" I asked, my tone unyielding.

"Lost," came the reply, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the word pressed against my chest. "That shipment was worth millions. Do you have any idea what that loss means?"

The man flinched but stood his ground. "We're working on recovering-"

"Don't work," I interrupted, my voice rising just enough to silence him. "Succeed."

The tension in the room was palpable, but I thrived on it. This was my domain-a battlefield of wits and strategy, where failure was not an option. The fire in my eyes was enough to send them scurrying to action, leaving me alone in the vast, empty office.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the city sprawled out beneath me like a kingdom I was meant to rule. The reflection staring back at me was cold, calculating-a man who had sacrificed everything for power. And yet, in the quiet moments, I couldn't escape the nagging emptiness.

This was my empire. And I would do whatever it took to protect it.

The sound of the door smashing against the wall jolted me back to reality, dragging me out of my reverie. I closed my eyes instinctively, knowing all too well who it was. None other than my so-called father, Mr. Rajveer Khurana.

"RUDRAKSH!" His voice boomed through the room, but I didn't flinch. I didn't move an inch. My gaze remained fixed on the world outside the window, as if I were a mere spectator in my own life.

He stormed in, rage burning through his veins, each step resonating with fury. "You couldn't even handle one company properly? How can one of your own workers betray you? Aise to bada jaap japte ho ki 'No one can dare to mess with Rudraksh Veer Khurana.' Ab kya hua? You couldn't even..."

I cut him off before he could finish, his words like the clatter of empty threats. "When did you come from Norway, Dad?"

The words left my lips cold and detached, almost like an afterthought. I didn't look at him-didn't feel the need to. I slid into the chair behind the massive oak desk, a symbol of my authority, my empire, my life.

"How dare you-" he started, but I didn't care.

"I repeat," I interrupted him, my voice now like steel. "When did you come from Norway, Dad?"

I allowed my gaze to meet his, and for a moment, I could almost feel the weight of his glare, as if he were trying to break me with it. But he couldn't. Not anymore.

"Today afternoon," he said, settling into the oversized leather sofa, his posture oozing the arrogance that had been a staple of his existence. The words hung in the air, a challenge.

I tilted my head slightly, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. His sudden presence here-always at the worst moments-was no coincidence. I could feel the blood in my veins simmer as the familiar pattern began to unfold.

"How do you manage to appear every time something bad happens to me?" I asked, my voice quiet but dripping with venom. "And the irony is not to console me, but to taunt me."

He smirked, a cold, bitter expression. "Because you appeared in my life during my happiest moment and took away my everything."

I felt the sting of his words, but I didn't flinch. I couldn't afford to.

I clenched my jaw and stood up, the movement sharp, like a switch being flipped. He mirrored my action, his eyes locked onto mine. We took steps toward each other, closing the distance between us until we were standing face to face. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You shouldn't have come into my life," he said, voice low but edged with disgust.

"I didn't even want to," I shot back, my words biting, raw with resentment.

His eyes darkened, words heavy with hatred. "I wish you were never born."

I didn't hesitate. "I wish your wish would have been fulfilled."

His face twisted, and he hissed, "You are a monster."

"Made by you," I retorted, the words like ice as they left my lips.

He stepped closer, his face so close that I could feel his breath. "You don't deserve this world."

"The world doesn't deserve me," I answered, calm despite the storm swirling inside me.

He paused for a moment, as if contemplating his next words carefully. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he said, "I shouldn't have given you this company."

"Correction," I said with a quiet, steely confidence. "I took it from you, when this company was at its lowest point, and you were about to abandon it."

A flicker of something crossed his face-maybe pride, maybe regret-but before he could say anything else, his eyes hardened again. "The only thing you know is to take things; you never give anything to anyone."

His words hit harder than I expected, and for the first time in this conversation, I found myself speechless. There was nothing to say. Nothing that would change the bitter truth he had just laid bare.

He stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. I stood still, staring at the wall, my mind reeling. The emptiness settled in once again. My past had a way of chasing me, and here it was, knocking on the door of my present with the force of a hurricane.

The bitter thoughts ran through my mind, uninvited but persistent.

I wish I had you, right now.