The storm outside was relentless, thunder rumbling through the night sky like an omen of impending doom. Rain pounded against the towering windows of the grand mansion, creating a rhythmic yet unsettling melody. The air inside was thick—almost suffocating—as if the very walls held secrets too dark to be spoken aloud.

A dull throbbing pain pulsed through Mehreen's head as she slowly regained consciousness. Her eyelashes fluttered, her mind struggling to push through the dense fog clouding her thoughts.

Where... where am I?

She blinked, her vision clearing as she took in the opulent surroundings. Marble floors, dark wooden furniture, heavy velvet drapes swaying ever so slightly in the cool air. A large chandelier hung above, its dim golden light casting eerie shadows across the room.

A sinking feeling took hold of her chest, a tight coil of panic wrapping around her ribcage. This wasn't her home.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as realization struck—something was terribly wrong.

Then she saw him.

A lone figure sat across the room, his posture relaxed yet commanding. Aarav Singhania.

He leaned back in his leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey swirling in his fingers. The flickering flames of the fireplace behind him illuminated his sharp features—high cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and those eyes.

Dark. Intense. Unforgiving.

He was watching her. Studying her.

Panic surged through Mehreen as memories came crashing back like waves in a violent storm.

The alley. A pair of rough hands. The sting of a needle.
Darkness. Silence.

Her breath hitched.

Her pulse pounded like war drums as she pushed herself upright on the massive four-poster bed, her fingers instinctively clutching the silk sheets beneath her.

"Good. You're awake."

His voice was deep, smooth—like silk laced with steel. A voice that commanded attention, a voice that held power.

Mehreen's throat was dry, but she forced out the words. "Where am I?"

Aarav's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. He took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down.

"My world now, princess."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Mehreen's fingers dug into the sheets. "Why am I here?"

Aarav stood. The movement was slow, deliberate—a predator in no hurry to strike. As he stepped forward, the dim light caught the hint of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his crisp black shirt.

"You were sold to me."

Silence.

Mehreen's breath caught. She must have misheard.

"What?" she whispered.

Aarav stopped just a few feet away, towering over her. His presence was suffocating.

"Your father owed a debt he couldn't pay," he said, his tone almost casual. "And in return... he gave me you."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Her father? No. No. It couldn't be true.

Mehreen shook her head violently. "You're lying."

Aarav arched a brow. "Am I?"

Her breathing became erratic, her mind racing. This had to be a mistake. A cruel joke. Her father had always protected her, loved her. He would never—

"No," she whispered, more to herself than him. "He wouldn't do that."

Aarav watched her for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the bed beside her.

Mehreen's fingers trembled as she unfolded it.

Her father's signature stared back at her.

A choked sound left her lips. It was real.

Aarav smirked. "Still think I'm lying?"

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she blinked them away. She would not break.

"I don't care what this says," she said through gritted teeth, lifting her gaze to meet his. "I am not yours."

Aarav's smirk disappeared. Something dark flickered in his eyes.

He moved faster than she expected, his hand gripping her chin with just enough force to make her gasp.

"You don't get to decide that." His voice was a whisper, but it sent chills down her spine. "You belong to me now, Mehreen."

Her heart pounded, but she refused to look away. She would not cower.

"Let me go," she said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach.

Aarav's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "You have two choices," he said, his grip loosening as he stepped back. "Fight me... and suffer. Or submit, and make this easier for yourself."

Mehreen's hands curled into fists. She would not submit.

"I'd rather die than belong to you."

Aarav stilled.

The air in the room grew heavier, thicker. Something shifted in his expression—something unreadable.

He took another step forward, and Mehreen instinctively moved back, only to find herself trapped against the headboard.

His gaze never left hers as he reached out, his fingers grazing the side of her neck before tilting her chin up.

"Careful what you wish for, princess." His voice was a murmur, but it carried a dangerous edge. "I don't take empty threats lightly."

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She refused to show weakness.

Aarav studied her for a moment longer before releasing her and stepping away.

"Get some rest," he said, his tone suddenly indifferent. "You'll need it."

"For what?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

Aarav's smirk returned, but there was no humor in it.

"For the life you're about to live."

With that, he turned and strode toward the door. The heavy wooden panel creaked as it swung open, the dim hallway beyond casting a shadow across the room.

And then—he was gone.

But even in his absence, his presence lingered.

Mehreen clenched her fists, her heart still racing. She would not break.

The storm outside roared, the wind howling against the walls.

But inside, in this golden cage of power and danger, Mehreen knew—

The real storm was only beginning.

🔥 Stay tuned for the next chapter! 🔥

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