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The house stood silent. Too silent.
It was the kind of silence that didn't feel peacefulāit felt final, like the silence of a battlefield after the war. Heavy with everything unsaid. Haunting in its weight. Avyaan Singh RathoreāMADVIPERāstood still in the middle of the grand living room of his father's estate. The place held no warmth. No scent of memories. No photographs on the walls, no laughter echoing through the marble halls. Just cold, polished floors and the oppressive air of a man who lived alone by choice.
This was not his home.
Not anymore.
It never had been.
The tension in his jaw grew rigid as he waited. He hadnāt seen his father in over a yearānot because of distance, but because of choice. And now, summoned like a pawn on a chessboard, he had returned, not out of respect... but necessity.
The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had haunted his childhood more than any nightmare ever could.
Devraj Singh Rathore.
The great industrialist. The calculating tycoon. The man who had once held the underworld by its throat before turning to the polished world of politics and legacy.
But to Avyaan, he was none of that.
To him, Devraj was just the man who walked out on his family and never looked back. The man who abandoned his wifeāthe soft-spoken, graceful woman Avyaan adoredāand traded warmth for power. He was the villain in Avyaanās story, a living reminder of every scar his mother bore alone.
Yet here he was, face-to-face.
"You're late," Devraj said without looking up, his voice smooth, cold, emotionless. He was seated like a king in a study of oak and steel, sunlight slipping through the blinds like knives of gold.
"I didnāt come for pleasantries," Avyaan replied, his voice grating with restrained fury. "You called. Iām here. Say what you have to."
Devraj chuckled. "Still impatient. That fire in youāit burns bright. Just like your mother."
"Donāt talk about her."
"I only meantā"
"I said, donāt." Avyaan stepped forward, his shoes echoing on the marble. "Why am I here?"
A pause. Then Devraj pushed a file across the desk. "You know that house she lives in? The one you think is hers?"
Avyaanās eyes darkened. "What about it?"
"Itās still in my name. Always has been."
Rage sparked behind his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"It was the only way to keep it safe. Legally, officially, everything in her life is protected under my guardianship. That includes the Rathore estate."
"And youāre telling me this now, why?"
"Because Iām ready to transfer it. To her. Permanently."
Avyaan narrowed his eyes. "Whatās the catch?"
Devraj leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.
"There are three conditions."
The air thickened. Avyaan felt the shift in gravityāthe room itself turning heavier.
"Speak."
"First," Devraj said, voice sharp, "you will marry the girl I choose for you."
Avyaan didnāt move. Didnāt breathe.
Devraj continued, unfazed. "Secondāthis marriage will not be a contract. There will be no divorce. No exit clause. No pretense. If you try to walk out of it... the house goes to the orphanage."
"And third?"
"You tell no one. Not your mother. Not your brothers. No one. This deal stays between you and me."
A thunderstorm raged in Avyaanās chest. Not of confusionābut of betrayal.
He laughedāa dark, hollow sound. "So this is your game? You think you can use her house as leverage to chain me to some girl of your choosing?"
"I think," Devraj said coolly, "you have a responsibility. To her. To the name you carry. And this... is how youāll earn it."
"You left us," Avyaan snarled. "You think you get to come back into our lives and dictate mine?"
"I never left your mother, Avyaan," Devraj said quietly. "She left me. Because I became what I had to become. And I let her go because it was safer that way."
"Donāt rewrite history."
Devraj stood now. Not as an enemyābut as a father trying, perhaps too late, to fix something already broken.
"I know I was never the father you wanted. I stayed away. But not because I didnāt careābecause my world was poison. You know that better than anyone. I built empires out of blood. You built your own."
Avyaanās hands clenched into fists. He didnāt want to hear truth. He wanted to hate him. It was easier.
"You may see me as your villain," Devraj said, softer now, "but this... this is me trying to give your mother what I never could. Security. Permanence. Freedom."
"And for that, I have to be your pawn?"
"No," Devraj said. "You have to be her son."
The silence returned. Not hollow this time, but sharp.
Avyaanās mind raced. He didnāt care about marriage. He didnāt care about names or legacies or contracts. But the house... his mother...
That place wasnāt just a structure. It was her life. Her pride. Her only protection.
And this man... this twisted, manipulative bastard... knew exactly what he was doing.
"Who is the girl?" Avyaan asked finally.
"Youāll know soon enough."
"I want a name."
Devraj smiled, not kindly. "Youāll have her name... Well it's Aradhya Mishra"
"Youāre insane."
"No, son. Iām just tired. Of letting the past win."
Avyaan turned away. Every muscle in his body ached with restraint. He didnāt say yes. But he didnāt say no either.
He walked out of that house knowing that whatever storm came next, it would change everything.
Because this wasnāt just about a house.
This was war.
And it was only the beginning.
.
(Avyaanās POV)
I stepped into the house like a shadow returning to its lair, footsteps echoing against the marble like a storm waiting to be named. Silence greeted meānot the comfortable kind, but the kind that grows teeth and bites at your thoughts.
My mind was still ringing with his voice. Every word had been calculated, like a contract written in blood.
One condition after another. A trap sealed with legality and legacy.
A marriage in exchange for shelter.
The houseāour homeāwasnāt mine. Not even my motherās. It still sat under his thumb, and he was ready to drop it into the hands of strangers unless I did what he wanted.
My fists clenched as I reached the hallway. The chandelierās crystal reflections danced mockingly above me.
"Avyaan," my motherās voice broke through the air, sharp and urgent.
She was already standing at the foot of the stairs, draped in a faded grey saree, worry etched into the soft lines of her face. Her silver bangles trembled as she took a step closer, like her bones were reacting to some pain she hadnāt said out loud.
āHe called,ā she said, her tone more a warning than a statement. āHe told me.ā
I didn't answer. My jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly. I knew what she meant. There was only one āheā in her worldāand mine. The man we both lived without, and yet could never quite escape.
She kept her voice low but firm. āHe wants you married now. Thatās what he said, isnāt it?ā
I nodded once.
Her eyes flashed. āI told him no. I told him not to drag you into his madness.ā
Still, I said nothing. There were things I couldnāt tell her. That was part of the conditionāthe third one. Silence. I couldnāt tell a soul about the strings attached to the so-called āgiftā he was offering.
And especially not her. She didn't deserve to carry that weight again.
āDonāt you dare say yes, Avyaan,ā she hissed. āDonāt you dare let that man run your life the way he ran mine.ā
The bitterness in her voice cut like rusted glass. It wasnāt just concernāit was pain. Old, permanent pain that had molded her into the woman she had become: guarded, cold to the world, but burning fiercely inside.
āHe ruined enough,ā she continued, walking closer until she was standing in front of me. āHe made decisions for me without ever asking what I wanted. And now heās doing the same to you. He doesnāt want a family. He wants control.ā
I looked away, staring at the staircase as if it would somehow save me from the rage building inside my chest.
āWhatever heās offering you,ā she said, voice shaking now, āwhatever promises he madeādonāt take them. Donāt make a deal with him. It will come with a price that wonāt be worth it.ā
I could hear her pain behind every syllable, and yet I couldnāt tell her she was too late. The choice had already been made. For her.
He had threatened the house. The house sheād built, brick by brick, into a place where she could raise me safely. And now he wanted to use it to make me kneel.
If I refused, it would be signed over to an orphanage in a matter of days.
If I agreed, it would finally be transferred to her nameāpermanently. That was his bait.
So I agreed.
Not because I believed in his vision or respected his termsābut because it was the only way to protect what my mother had left.
She took a step forward again. āAvyaan, listen to me. We donāt need him. Weāve never needed him. Donāt let him back in, not even through this marriage. Stay away. From him. From his conditions. From everything.ā
I finally met her eyes.
But I didnāt speak.
Because what could I say?
That I had already broken her heart without her even knowing?
That I had signed myself into a prison made of gold just to keep her walls from falling?
I gave her a slight nod. Hollow. Mechanical.
And I walked past her.
Straight to my room.
Once the door shut behind me, I collapsed against it, exhaling a breath I hadnāt realized Iād been holding all day.
The room felt colder than usual.
Or maybe it was just me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and let the silence fill the space between my heartbeat and my thoughts. The decision I had made wasnāt just about property. It wasnāt even just about defying him or obeying him. It was about the invisible scars that still bled between generations.
My mother had begged me not to let him in. And yet, in trying to protect her, I had handed him the very thing she feared mostāpower.
The marriage⦠wasnāt just a name on paper anymore.
It was my sentence.
Aradhya Mishra.
That was the name he gave me. No image. No voice. Just a name I had to marry, tied into a contract I couldnāt escape. I didnāt know her. I didnāt care to. But now, she was part of this game, even if she didnāt know the rules.
She believed it was an arranged marriage. Thatās all sheād been told. Just like me, she didnāt know the truth behind it. The threats. The price.
And maybe that was better for her.
Because this wasnāt about love.
This was war disguised in family values.
This was legacy stitched with betrayal.
And I was the crown prince of a kingdom I never asked to rule.
So I sat there, alone, in the house I was about to sacrifice my soul for, thinking of the girl who had no idea she was marrying a man carved out of fire and revenge.
The future was coming fast.
And I was no longer in control of it.
𩷠⨠The sterile white walls of the hospital echoed faintly with hurried footsteps and hushed conversations. The air smelled strongly of antiseptic, thick and suffocating, as if it was trying to smother every sign of chaos that had just unfolded in their lives. Riyaās face was pale, her usually bright eyes dulled by worry as she sat restlessly in the waiting area. Abhishek was pacing back and forth, his hands trembling slightly though he tried to hide it behind a faƧade of composure. Their mother sat silently with folded hands, praying under her breath, while Aradhya lay inside the emergency ward, the thin partition door separating her from the anxious family. They had been waiting for hours, the ticking clock on the wall almost unbearable, each second dragging out like a lifetime. Riya glanced at her phone again, her heart thudding every time the screen lit up. Abhishek noticed and asked quietly, "Abhi koi call aaya?" ("Did any call come just now?") Riya shook her head. "Nahi,
š©· āØ...The Rathore mansion, usually filled with a quiet, dignified stillness, seemed even more unsettling that afternoon. The marble floors reflected the dim light of the chandeliers, while the silence carried an almost sinister weight. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock echoed faintly across the vast halls. Mansiās eyes, sharp and restless, flickered toward the curving staircase that led to the second floor. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the small brass container filled with oil. The plan had been growing in her mind like a poisonous seedāsilent, deadly, and carefully nurtured. She had watched Aradhya for days, studying her every step, every small weakness, waiting for the perfect opportunity. And today, she had found it. Her lips curled in a cold smile as she poured the oil gently along the steps, her eyes darting toward the hallway where Aradhyaās faint shadow appeared. āLetās see how perfect you still look after this,ā Mansi muttered under her breath
𩷠⨠..The night air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the metallic tang of tension. Avyaanās boots crunched over the uneven forest floor as he moved, every muscle taut, senses sharpened to an almost inhuman degree. He had been tracking the shipment that had gone missing, the one his rivals thought they could steal from under the Veyrix gangās nose. But they hadnāt accounted for him. A sudden rustle, a whisper of movement, and thenāchaos. A gang of masked men emerged from the shadows, weapons glinting faintly in the moonlight. Avyaan didnāt hesitate. The first man lunged with a knife, but Avyaan was faster, sidestepping and twisting the attackerās arm until the metal clattered to the ground. His fists were a blur, his strikes precise, honed over years of training and necessity. Every punch, every kick was a messageāmess with the Veyrix gang, and you got obliterated. One attacker came at him with a pipe, swinging with brute force. Avyaan caught it mid-air, the im
𩷠⨠It had been two days since Avyaan left for Dubai, and the house already felt emptier without him. The nights were the hardest. She would lie in bed, hugging the pillow he had last used, his scent lingering faintly on it. Every night, without fail, his call would come. Sometimes it was just for a few minutes, other times he would stay on the line until she drifted off to sleep. His voice was deep and tired from the dayās work, but there was always a softness when he said, āSleep now, baccha. Iām right here.ā Those calls were her anchor, but the moment the phone went silent, the loneliness crept in again. This morning was no different. She sat at the breakfast table, quietly stirring her tea without drinking it. Her thoughts wandered to when he might return. Would it be this week? Next? Maybe heād surprise her and come early. The very idea made her lips curve in a faint smile. But peace was never guaranteed in this house, not when Abhishek and Riya were around. āBhabhiā¦ā R
š©· āØ"Someone who knows you better than you know yourself," Shaheen gasped, his breathing labored. "Someone who's been watching, waiting, planning. Someone who knows that destroying you means destroying her first."Avyaan felt the world tilt around him. "You knew," he said, realization crashing over him like a tidal wave. "You knew I would come here. This wasn't a dealāit was bait."Shaheen's laugh was wet and horrible. "Of course I knew. Everything was planned, down to the last detail. Your arrival, your offer, your beautiful wife sitting in that garden reading her little book, completely unaware that she's the center of a web that's been years in the making.""Who?" Avyaan pressed the barrel of his gun against Shaheen's forehead, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Give me a name.""I'm loyal to my boss," Shaheen wheezed, but there was pride in his voice even as death approached. "I won't betray him, even for you, Madviper. Even if you peel the skin from my bones, I won'tā"The gu
𩷠⨠The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Dubai stood like a monument to forgotten dreams, its skeletal structure casting jagged shadows across the desert sand. The building had once been a thriving textile factory, but now it served as a different kind of marketplaceāone where bullets were currency and blood sealed contracts.Inside, the air was thick with dust and tension. Shafts of harsh afternoon sunlight cut through broken windows, illuminating particles that danced like ghosts in the suffocating heat. The concrete floor was stained with years of questionable activities, and the walls bore scars from previous negotiations that had gone terribly wrong.At the center of this desolate arena, two groups faced each other across a makeshift table constructed from shipping crates. The atmosphere crackled with the kind of energy that came right before lightning struckāelectric, dangerous, and absolutely lethal.MadviperāAvyaan Singh Rajvanshāsat with the casual confidence of a kin