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He was born into power.
Sarthak Singhania - the prince of a royal Hindu lineage, CEO of a billion-dollar empire, and a man raised to rule, not to feel.
He doesn't believe in love.
Doesn't trust...
“She wouldn’t leave me,” I said quietly. “Not her. Not after everything she did.”
He tried to speak, but I was already turning away, rage pulsing through me. The truth had a scent — and I smelled it that night. Rhea wasn’t gone. She was hiding. And if my gut was right, she’d taken Shivani with her.
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Author’s POV
Sanya reached across the desk, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sarthak, you’ve done everything you can. Let the police handle it now.”
He shook his head, eyes dark. “The police move on reports. I move on instincts.”
“And what do your instincts say?” she asked quietly.
“That she’s alive,” he whispered. “And that whoever took her will wish they were dead before I’m through.”
Sanya flinched. Her son’s voice — once steady, proud, royal — now sounded feral. Like a man stripped of reason and built back out of rage.
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Shivani’s POV
The room smelled like rust and rot. The only light came from a flickering bulb that buzzed like a dying insect.
Two weeks. Two damn weeks of pain.
The ropes had cut deep into my wrists. I couldn’t tell if the dried blood was mine or theirs anymore.
The door creaked open, and the man with the scar walked in again — his grin wide, cruel.
“Still got that fire, huh?” he sneered, grabbing my chin roughly. “You think your big boss will save you? He’s probably moved on by now.”
I spat at him, defiance burning through the pain. “Main Shivani hoon. Tum jaise kutte ke saamne nahi jhukti. (I’m Shivani. I don’t bow to dogs like you.)”
His smirk faltered for a second, then returned. “We’ll see.”
He reached for the iron rod resting against the wall — already stained with rust and something darker. My stomach twisted, but I refused to show it.