The tension in the room was thick, men hanging onto his every word, afraid to breathe wrong in his presence. Dhanush sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished wood, sharp eyes scanning the deal on the table. Then—his phone vibrated. Her name.

Without hesitation, he pushed his chair back, standing abruptly. His men froze. No one interrupted Dhanush.

“Meeting’s over,” he muttered, already striding out.

"But, sir—" someone dared to speak.

Dhanush stopped at the door, tilting his head, voice laced with danger. “If I don’t reach home in ten minutes, I lose my cuddles. And trust me—” his dark eyes gleamed, “—you don’t wanna see me without them.”

With that, he was gone, his black Mercedes roaring to life. The King of Fear, untouchable, unshaken—yet terrified of her silence.