Chapter 15–Stolen Moments

Natasha’s POV

The ride home was fast, not reckless. 

Ananya suggested we go to her house, but I couldn’t risk it. If we were being followed, I refused to lead them straight to her door. 

The mansion came into view. The gate opened for us as I pulled into the garage, moving quickly but carefully. 

We got out of the car and moved toward the front door. 

The door swung open before we even reached the porch. 

The moment we crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind us with a quiet finality that made my chest tighten. 

Footsteps approached almost immediately. 

“Ma’am,” one of the maids greeted, dipping her head slightly. Her eyes flicked between us. “You’re back early,” she said, turning to Ananya. “Hello, Miss Ananya.”

“Hi Sandra. How are you?” Ananya said. 

“Yeah, actually, I didn’t go to the office,” I said, looking around. “Is anyone home?” I asked. 

“No, ma’am,” Sandra said. 

“Alright, thanks. You may go.”

“Good to see you, ma’am.” she said to Ananya. 

Ananya stayed close behind me as we moved through the house, our footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floors. Every sound felt louder than it should have. 

We took the stairs quickly, one at a time. But every step felt like it took too long, like something could catch up to us at any second. 

At the top, the hallway stretched out, dim and familiar. My door was at the far end. For once, the distance felt longer than usual. 

I reached it, pushed it open, and we stepped in immediately. Only then did I breathe. 

Ananya exhaled, her shoulders easing as she dropped the paper bag from the restaurant on the vanity counter before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

I moved slower now, the urgency fading into something quieter. I slipped off my shoes, setting them aside, then ran a hand through my hair. 

“That was… crazy,” Ananya said under her breath. 

I walked over and sat beside her. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. 

“But seriously,” Ananya said finally, “this can’t be your new reality. You can’t go out without fear of being watched or followed. Does your dad even know about this?”

I gave a faint shrug. “Probably,” I said, my tone flat. “The last time I confronted him, he didn't seem to know a bounty had been placed on his family.”

Ananya frowned. “He didn’t? How convenient. He sold you off before the threat even began.”

“In his words, he didn’t know it would get to the point where his family would be targeted,” I said, more to myself than to her. “But he also said it was my fault, and if I had agreed to this arrangement sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.” I scoffed. 

“And if I don’t do what needs to be done, his problems could drag me down with him,” I added. 

Ananya’s face twisted in disgust. “What father would conveniently sell his own daughter and threaten her if she doesn’t comply? I’m sorry, Tasha, your dad is—”

“Careful, Ananya. He’s still my father," I warned. 

She pressed her lips together, nodding once like she was forcing herself not to say more. “I know,” she said, softer now. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

The silence stretched for a moment. 

“So… what happens now?” Ananya asked. 

I exhaled softly. “I don’t know. I’ve agreed to this. But ultimately, it all depends on Tristan.”

Ananya tilted her head slightly. “I thought he had also agreed to this?”

“Oh, sure, he has,” I said. “I didn’t tell you— he’s doing this for his grandmother. She doesn’t have much time left,” I stood, walking to the vanity to take out the coffees. “She wants him married before she dies. My father had approached Tristan to save what was left of his company and offered me in return.”

“And Tristan only wants me to be his wife until his grandmother passes,” I continued as I handed her the coffee. “But now that he knows my father wasn’t completely honest with him—”

“He might not be willing to go through with the arrangement,” Ananya finished quietly. 

I took a sip from the latte. “Exactly,” I said, walking to the window. Sitting suddenly felt like a burden. “He came by the office two days ago. I heard him yelling at my father. I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but he sounded furious. When I barged into my father’s office, you could cut the tension with a knife.”

My mind drifted to the way his face softened at the sight of me. The way he had held my wrist like he was holding something fragile—something he couldn’t afford to lose. 

“Who did this to you?”

His question echoed in my head more than I wanted to admit. 

“At least, you won’t have to marry the devil,” Ananya’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You can decide to leave the city, start a new life somewhere, and let your father deal with his mess.”

I stared at her. “You think it’s that easy? Where on earth could I possibly run that the syndicates wouldn’t find me?” I asked, taking another sip from the latte. “My father made sure I understood that by the way.” 

Ananya raised an eyebrow. “We can run to India. Change our names. Start over.”

For the first time in weeks, I let out a real laugh. 

“I’m serious,” she said. “Just say the word.”

“The idea is… tempting. Good even,” I said in between breaths. “But this is something my family and I need to face—head on.”

She raised her hand in the air. “I’m just saying.”

“I know, and I appreciate that. Thank you.”

The tension didn’t disappear, but it loosened—just enough for us to breathe. 

Ananya leaned back slightly, cradling her cup. “Okay, fine. We won’t run away to India,” she said with a small smile. “But if things get worse, I’m dragging you out myself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said, nodding like she had just sealed something important. Then, as if deliberately pulling us away from everything we had said, she added “So… are we seriously going to ignore the fact that you’re marrying a man people are literally afraid of?”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Oh, please, don’t start again. Besides, we don’t know if the marriage is happening.”

“I’m not starting anything,” she insisted, leaning forward. “I’m just saying… if you’re going to marry Tristan, at least tell me—does he look as good up close as people say?”

“Ananya—”

Her grin grew wider. “No, no, wait,” she cut in quickly. “He’s tall, obviously. But like… intimidating tall or rich-man tall? 

I tried to fight it, but a small smile slipped through. “He’s… tall.”

She gasped dramatically. “The way you said that—Tasha, be serious.”

I shook my head, looking away, but I could feel the warmth creeping into my face. “He’s… intimidating,” I admitted. “Not just his height. It’s just him. And for someone people say is cold, he’s actually… calm. Or I just haven’t seen that side of him yet.”

Ananya leaned back, satisfied. “Hmm. I knew it. You like him, don’t you?”

“How did we even arrive at that?” I said, facing her now. Both of us laughed. 

We drifted from there—into smaller, safer things. Old memories. Random stories that didn’t matter but somehow felt necessary. At some point, we were laughing again, the sound lighter, freer. 

For a while, it almost felt like none of this was real. Like I wasn’t being watched. Like I wasn’t being traded. Like my life and everything around me wasn’t falling apart. 

Time blurred without either of us noticing. 

It wasn’t until Ananya checked her phone and let out a soft gasp that reality crept back in. 

“Wait—what?” she said, sitting up straighter. “How is it already this late?”

I blinked, glancing toward the window. The light had shifted, softer now, dipping into evening. “No freaking way…”

“We’ve been talking for hours,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s actually insane.”

It felt strange how easily time slipped away when I wasn’t thinking about everything waiting for me outside this room. For a moment, I let myself sit in it. Because deep down, I knew moments like this were becoming rare. 

Ananya stood, smoothing down her clothes. “I should probably head out before it gets too late,” she said. 

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, thank you… for this. I feel… lighter.”

“Oh, stop. You’re mocking me,” she said immediately, stepping closer. She pulled me into a quick hug—tight, reassuring. “And call me if anything happens.”

“I will.”

She pulled back, studying me for a brief second before nodding, like she had convinced herself I’d be fine. 

“I’ll walk you out,” I said. 

We moved downstairs together, the house quieter than usual. 

At the door, she turned back one last time. “You‘ll be okay,” she said, her tone warm. 

I gave a small smile. “Yeah.” I didn't even fully believe it. 

I watched as she got into a ride I didn't realize she had booked. The car drove off, fading into distance.

Then I turned and stepped back inside—to my room.

The silence hit me immediately. Heavier this time. 

I sank into my bed, looking up at the ceiling like it could silence the noises in my head. 

I was about to pull out my laptop when I heard voices. 

A strange feeling settled in my chest. 

I moved quietly toward the sound, stopping at the top of the stairs now. 

“…this is worse than I thought.” Victoria’s voice—strained but sharp. 

I reached the bottom of the stairs now and stepped into the living room—then froze.