"Kill her"
A voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through silence
A jolt, like ice through her veins.
A mocking laugh, low and cruel, echoed from the other end. "Cancel the Merchant deal? Impossible."
"You want me to give up billions?"
A cold, hard edge, a familiar tone that made her stomach twist.
"Kill her. She's not worth the value of the deal."
The words, each one a hammer blow, shattered the fragile hope she clung to. Not worth it? It was him. Him. Her husband. The man who'd whispered promises of forever, of protection, of unwavering love.
Fury, raw and untamed, surged through her. She snatched the phone from the kidnapper's trembling hand. "Saransh..."
A brutal impact, a flash of blinding pain. The world spun, the phone slipped from her grasp, the line went dead.
Saransh...The name, a curse now, a vow. He'd valued a deal over her life. He'd promised protection, delivered death. He would pay. He would learn her worth.
The burning ember of revenge ignited, a promise whispered into the suffocating darkness: his fake love, his empty promises, his betrayal - he would drown in them.
Where the man who shaped her past and the one who defined her present both claimed her, leaving her trapped between what was and what could be.
The deepest wounds aren't from enemies, but from ours-those we trusted most.....💔