Hardik Pandya had it all—fame, fortune, and the love of millions. But the one thing he lost was love. His marriage to Natasha had been deep and passionate, but his career always came first. The distance between them grew until it ended in a silent, painful divorce.

Since then, Hardik had changed. No more relationships. Just casual hookups and one-night stands. Women chased him, but none truly mattered to him.

That night at the club, he was out with Virat and Rohit, lost in the usual chaos. But when you walked in—barefaced, quiet, and completely out of place—he noticed you instantly.

You looked like someone who didn’t belong in a place like that.

He approached you with a cold offer. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch—just nodded and followed. In the hotel room, he was rough, distant. You said nothing. When it was over, he handed you money.

Things contined over and over. Whenever the world became too heavy, he called. And you came. No questions. No expectations.

Sometimes he was cruel. Sometimes, after a bad match, he’d take out his anger through you. Push your limits. Leave marks. And you’d still never say a word. Just take the money. Leave.

But it began to haunt him.

In the silence of his penthouse, he’d lie awake thinking: Why does she let me do this? Why doesn’t she fight back?

One night, after you left, he called his manager.

“Find out about her.”

A week later, the report landed on his desk. He read it in silence.

• Parents dead at 17.

• Working nights at a café.

• Barely affording law school.

• No family. No support. Just sheer survival.

“She’s not weak,” he whispered. “She’s... surviving.”

For the first time in years, something inside him cracked. The image of you—young, fragile, too damn innocent for the darkness he pulled you into—burned in his mind.

The next time you showed up at his door, he didn’t take you to bed.

He just looked at you and said, “Why didn’t you ever say no to me?”

You shrugged. “Because I needed the money.”

“That’s not a reason to let me break you.”