Lahat ng Kabanata ng The mute Bride of the mafia king : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

🩷 🍒 The sky was bruised black, thick with the weight of an oncoming storm that threatened to split the city in half. Rain fell in torrents, not gentle or forgiving, but hard—like bullets hurled from the heavens. It drenched the asphalt, ran in rivulets down broken alleys, and blurred the neon glow of the underground city’s sin-soaked streets.And yet, the rain didn’t dare touch them.They emerged from the shadows like spirits of vengeance—silent, swift, and merciless. Cloaked in black from head to toe, they didn’t need introductions. They didn’t need mercy. They were the fire whispered about in the underworld’s darkest corners, the ghosts who killed without leaving a trace.They were "The Veyrix".Feared. Untouchable. Untraceable.The first to step out of the armored black SUV was MADWOLF—HY. Towering, sharp-eyed, wild. He didn’t wear madness on his sleeve—he wore it in his grin. His fingers hovered over the hilt of the curved blade strapped to his side, aching for chaos, for blood

🩷 🍒 (Avyaan’s POV)The world was silent when it shouldn't have been.I sat on the edge of the armchair in my room, staring at nothing but the soft gleam of the city lights beyond the glass windows. It was past midnight. The house slept in silence, but my mind was storming — restless, bitter, unsettled.Marriage. That word echoed like a death sentence in my head.My fingers clenched the glass of whiskey tighter, veins tensed beneath my skin. The taste burned, but not enough to numb me."He's crossed the fucking line this time," I muttered to the darkness.That man — my father — had always tried to control everything. Money. Power. Reputation. But now, he wanted to extend his strings to my life... to my future... to my goddamn marriage?And the cherry on top? He was using my mother. The only person I gave a damn about in that cursed bloodline. Using her as bait in this twisted blackmail.If I agreed to marry the girl he chose, he’d transfer the ownership of the ancestral house — my

🩷 🍒Author's POVThe air inside the Rathore mansion was thick with concern and confusion. It had been three long hours since the newlywed bride had left the temple, and yet, there was still no sign of her. Aarika Singh Rathore, Avyaan’s mother, paced back and forth across the marble floor of the sitting room, her silk saree rustling with every turn she took. Her brows were drawn tightly in a frown, lips pressed in a worried line."Where is she?" Aarika asked again, her voice laced with both anxiety and frustration. Her eyes shifted between Sumitra, Avyaan’s aunt, and the maid who stood quietly nearby. "She left with the other car behind us. It’s been over three hours! Why hasn’t she reached yet?"Sumitra exchanged a nervous glance with the housekeeper before clearing her throat. "Bhabhi, I don’t know. Maybe something went wrong on the way. The rain, perhaps..."Before they could speculate further, a bodyguard entered the room and bowed slightly."Ma’am," he said carefully, "the brid

🩷 🍒 .The Rathore mansion was quieter than usual, but beneath the silence lay a tension that felt alive. Riya’s question from yesterday — “What happened to your face, bhabhi? Why don’t you remove this veil?” — still echoed in the corridors like an unanswered riddle. Aradhya, however, moved as if wrapped in her own world. Her long veil brushed softly against her pale rose saree, hiding her features entirely. She walked through the wide hallways like a shadow — unnoticed, yet impossible to ignore. She did not belong here. Not to the cold marble floors, nor the golden chandeliers above her head. ---When Aradhya returned to her room, the morning sunlight streamed through the large window, painting the walls with soft gold. She sat by the small wooden writing desk, her fingers brushing over a plain notebook and pen placed there by a servant. In her village, girls were not meant to study. Knowledge was seen as a luxury reserved for men. But Aradhya, even as a child, had always b

🩷 🍒. Sumitra held the receiver of the landlline with an expression of mild irritation, her brows furrowed as though the mere act of taking a call for Aradhya was beneath her. "Here," she said curtly, thrusting the phone toward the girl who stood a few steps away, near the threshold of the living room. Her tone was sharp, clipped, as if Aradhya were just another piece of furniture that had to be reluctantly dealt with. "He wants to speak to you. And when you’re done, you’ll give me back my phone. Understood?"   Without waiting for any acknowledgment, Sumitra turned on her heel, her heavy anklets clinking softly against the marble floor as she left the room. The faint rustle of her saree faded down the hallway, leaving Aradhya alone with the object in her trembling hands.   For a moment, Aradhya simply stared at the device. The smooth, glossy surface of the screen caught the light streaming th