The Rejected Wife's Secret Empire
He was a living, breathing human being, burning with a severe fever, actively bleeding for them, and his former best friend was complaining about his smell ruining a luxury lunch.
"He is a necessary eyesore, Kabir," Kiara replied coldly, not even glancing back at him. "It builds character. Hold the bucket higher, driver. The dirty condensation is dripping onto the hem of my designer skirt."
Aryan squeezed his bruised eyes shut. He violently forced his dead, screaming arms to lift the heavy silver bucket an inch higher. His heart hammered erratically against his bruised ribs, pumping cold terror and burning pain through his failing veins. He stood there, a broken human table, silently bleed
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