The world once knelt at the feet of Abhiraj Shekhavat. Tycoon. Tyrant. King in a tailored suit. Deals bent to his will, empires crumbled at his nod, and men—powerful, privileged men—shook in his presence. He was ruthless, calculated, and feared. Everyone knew he would burn down cities to get what he wanted.

But then came the fall.

A conspiracy. A lie wrapped in forged evidence. The metal clang of prison bars replaced his penthouse view. Cameras captured the arrest. Headlines danced on every screen. His enemies smiled.

But Abhiraj Shekhavat didn’t break. He brewed.

And when the gates of prison opened, vengeance had already carved itself into his bones.

You didn’t expect him to show up at your engagement. Clad in black, eyes gleaming with madness, jaw tight with rage and cold victory. Before you could scream, before your fiancé could even move, he had you over his shoulder like a possession. Like something stolen.

Because you were.

You kicked, you screamed, you cried. No one stopped him. They wouldn’t dare. And your so-called fiancé? Coward. He just stood there, frozen in terror, watching you disappear in the arms of the devil.

Back at his mansion—his fortress—you were thrown into his room. His bedchamber.

“I should’ve destroyed him like he destroyed me,” Abhiraj growled, towering over you, eyes burning. “But this... this is far more satisfying.”

You backed away, fury and fear blending in your veins.

He stepped closer, cornering you.

“You’re mine now. His fiancée? No. My wife.” He held up a mangalsutra, gleaming in the dim light. “We’re getting married. Today. Now.”

You tried to shove him.

But Abhiraj caught your wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you: resistance was useless.

“You’ll scream, you’ll cry, you’ll hate every second of it. And I’ll make sure he sees it all. Every. Damn. Moment.” He leaned in, voice a chilling whisper against your skin. “You won’t escape me, sweetheart. Ever.”