The party was wild. Neon lights flickered across velvet walls, the bass pulsing like a second heartbeat. You stood at the center of it all — glitter on your cheekbones, black heels sharp as your glare, your cherry-red dress hugging every dangerous curve.
You needed this chaos. It was your only escape from his world.
From Raghavan Singh.
The moment anyone touched your waist or leaned in too close, you’d whisper your surname in their ear. The reaction was always the same — fear, awkward laughter, and then distance. Like your name carried a curse.
You sipped your drink, eyes scanning the crowd. That’s when you saw him.
Leaning against the bar — broad-shouldered, in a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, a cut on his cheek like he’d just walked out of a fight. His eyes locked onto yours. Calm. Unafraid. Unapologetic.
He didn’t look away.
You should’ve. But you didn’t.
Back at home, the palace-like bungalow of Silverwood stood cloaked in silence. Your father sat in his usual chair — glass of whiskey in hand, news channels muted on the massive TV. The moment you stepped in, he looked up.
"You're late," he said quietly.
You shrugged, dropping your heels at the door. "I'm not twelve, Dad."
He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "(Y/N), don’t test me. You don’t know the kind of snakes that slither into clubs like those—"
"And you do? Because you run with them?" you shot back, pulling off your earrings. "I’m not your prisoner. You can’t keep locking me away in gold just because you’re afraid someone might steal me."
He stood now. His voice dropped into something dangerous.
"No man looks at you without knowing who you are. That’s protection. That’s power. And one day, when I’m gone, that name will be all you have to survive this world."
"Then maybe I don’t want your world."
The silence that followed cut deeper than any slap. For a second, his eyes softened — the old grief surfacing again. Your mother’s name hung in the air like smoke. He didn’t say it. He never did.
You turned and walked away.
Later that night, your phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: “That red dress suits danger. Meet me. If you dare.”
You stared at the message. Your pulse raced. It was him — the guy from the bar. You didn’t even know his name.
But you replied.
And that one reply… Would start a war.