SAANVI'S POV

“Let go of me!” I snap, twisting my wrists as hard as I can, trying to break free from the tall man’s grip. My gaze darts around the road is isolated, surrounded by nothing but dust and silence. It’s far from the city. No buildings. No traffic. Just an abandoned stretch of road, and I’m standing here in daylight… being kidnapped.

“Get in the fucking car or I’ll blow your head off right here!” he snarls, pushing the gun against my forehead.

My breath catches. He stands firm in front of me, face twisted with rage. Behind him, three other men sit silently in the black SUV, watching. I don’t even have a second to think. My heart slams against my ribs. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I close them tight suddenly two gunshots tear through the air.

I flinch hard. My eyes fly open just in time to see him drop to the ground. Blood spills beneath his skull, seeping into the dirt. My body locks up. My fingers tremble as shock takes hold.

“Doctor!”

I spin around.

Kabir rushes toward me. His hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me toward another car parked close by. I stumble into the backseat next to him, barely catching my breath before the door slams shut.

I saw Abhimaan at the wheel. The moment he accelerates, I jolt backward against the seat. My eyes flick to the road ahead the same car I was being forced into is still in motion, driving fast.

“You alright?” Kabir asks, glancing at me briefly.

I stare at him in disbelief. “Did you... did you kill him?”

“No. Not me.”

Relief hits me for a second until the car drifts wildly around a curve and I fall sideways, gripping Kabir’s arm for balance

“Abhimaan! Drive like a normal person! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Kabir huffs out a dry laugh. “This is how we got to you in time, Doctor.”

I turn toward him, confused and frustrated. “Who pulled the trigger? He was shot. Twice.”

Kabir keeps his eyes on the road ahead. “You’ll see. Just try not to pass out again.”

I notice the earpiece in his ear. “Yeah, she’s safe,” he mutters to someone on the other end.

Abhimaan speaks up as well, “We’ll take the outer route. No way we’re going through the city.”

Kabir turns to me again. “Wanna know who shot him?” He smirks and nods toward the car ahead. “Look.”

A bike suddenly speeds past us, sleek and fast, overtaking our car and closing in on the black SUV. A second vehicle, a dark sedan follows close behind it.

The bike veers suddenly, almost scraping the SUV. Before I can blink, the car crashes hard into its rear, forcing the SUV off balance. Tires screech and the SUV swerves, then rolls violently down a slope.

I press my face into the glass, trying to make out the rider. Something about the bike looks familiar.

I press closer to the window, trying to see clearly. “Why does that look like Rudra's bike?”

The black sedan pulls up alongside the SUV, the window rolled halfway down and three, maybe four gunshots rip through the air, targeting the tires. The SUV screeches, scraping against gravel.

The biker brakes sharply, dismounts, pulls a gun from his holster, and climbs onto the SUV’s hood in one swift motion, he points his gun and fires straight at the driver.

I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath.

Abhimaan brings our car to a stop a short distance away and gets out, he’s carrying a gun too. What the fuck?!

My eyes flick back to the biker. He kicks the SUV’s mirror, shattering it with one sharp blow. His black t-shirt clings to him, soaked against his frame, and the holster strapped across his chest shifts as he moves. His arms flex as he keeps his gun raised.

“Kabir...” my voice trembles, “why does he have the same tattoo Rudra has?”

That familiar lipstick mark near his collarbone.

The biker removes his helmet.

No. No, that can’t be him.

I whisper, “Why does he look like Rudra?”

“Because he is Rudra, Doctor.”

My stomach drops.

He opens the door and steps out without looking back. “Stay inside. We’ve got work to finish.”

I stay frozen. My gaze is glued to Rudra. He’s fighting with someone now, sharp, vicious. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

Kabir and Abhimaan are out there too. They move like soldiers. There’s no panic in any of them. They have guns. They know how to use them.

What the hell are they?

I thought Rudra was an arrogant businessman. Kabir, an idiot. Abhimaan barely spoke. And now this?

My eyes scan the chaos and freeze. Someone’s sneaking up behind Rudra with a knife.

“Rudra!” I throw the door open and stand up.

He look at me, the moment he hears me, confused. But before I can say anything, someone slams into the attacker from behind.

Avyaan.

Even him?

Rudra glances back, sees Avyaan, and something passes silently between them.

I look around again. There were only a few men before. Now there are bodies everywhere, blood, dirt, gunpowder.

Rudra’s gaze snaps back to me, he shoves a body aside, eyes narrowing, then bends down, pulls a knife from his boot, and throws it straight toward me.

“What the fuck?!” I scream, ducking and covering my head.

A low groan breaks the air. I turn slowly, my heart in my throat. A man stands barely a foot away from me, Rudra’s blade lodged deep in his chest.

“Why the hell did you get out of the car?!” Rudra barks as he reaches me, yanks me behind him, and without pausing, lands a punch and shoots the man again.

The sound rings in my ears.

Voices begin to blur, the ground seems to spin, and everything fades into that terrifying, numbing silence.

The last thing I feel is a pair of arms catching me before I hit the ground.

----------------

I shift slightly and groan as I try to open my eyes, but the harsh lights make them ache. My head feels heavy. Something warm rests on my cheek, fingers and another hand wrapped around mine, holding it firmly.

I blink a few more times before my eyes finally adjust. I try to sit up, and he immediately places a hand behind my back for support.

I think I dreamt of everything. What a weird dream...

“Pearl? You okay?” His voice pulls me back.

I blink again and glance around, I spot Kabir and Abhimaan leaning against the far wall. All of them are watching me like I’ve just come back from the dead.

“Thank God,” Kabir mutters. “For a second I thought you’d end up back in the hospital after watching Rudra go full psycho.”

My eyes dart to Rudra.

Wait—what?

“It wasn’t a dream?” I whisper, scanning the room. My gaze freezes on the table nearby guns, loaded mags, holsters. Real, all of it.

“It was real?”

“Yes,” Rudra answers.

“Here.” I turn toward the new voice, Avyaan. He walks over and hands Rudra a water bottle.

Rudra opens it and gives it to me. My fingers tremble as I take it. I sip slowly, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. I look back at him. “Who are you?”

His eyes drop to the floor.

“You’re not just a businessman,” I say slowly in disbelief. “Who are you really? Wait... are you running some kind of mafia?” I hesitate. “Do those even exist?”

Kabir groans from across the room, throwing his head back. “Ugh, seriously? Mafia? That’s your go to?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s such a terrible word, Doctor, eww. We’re not gangsters.”

Rudra’s hand slips into mine again. I glance down at the contact instinctively his fingers wrapping around mine but all I can see is blood. On his hands, his clothes. My mind flashes to the sound of the gunshots, the weight of someone dying so close.

I’ve seen blood too but mine was never meant to end a life.

He exhales slowly, “We’re not mafia, Pearl We’re NVC's Field Agents.”

I look up at him, startled.

“We operate under a covert organization, it’s called the Nightblade Venor Cartel. There are five of us in the core unit. We don’t use our real names on missions,” he explains, then gestures to himself. “My codename is Blaze. Blaze Volkaris.”

He nods toward Avyaan, who stands near the window with his arms crossed. “That’s Zyren.”

Then toward Abhimaan, silent and sharp-eyed in the corner. “Aeron.”

Finally, he lifts his chin toward Kabir, who gives me a mock salute with a grin. “Eryx.”

A spy. My husband is a goddamn spy. Part of something called the Cartel whatever that even means.

Who the hell did I marry?

I just stare at them, four men who look like they walked out of a boardroom or a nightclub except now I know better.

Now I know they walk out of places covered in blood.

I glance at Rudra again, “You said there are five members... Who’s the fifth?”

He clicks his tongue and looks away for a beat. “Clarencia, known as Eira Ravelle.”

My eyes widen. “Wait—Clarencia? She’s one of you?”

He nods. “She only comes in during extraction operations. That’s her domain. Clean, quick rescue missions.”

Before I can process that, curiosity gets the better of me. I shift slightly, glancing around the room. “And what exactly do all of you do?”

Kabir perks up with a lazy smile. “I handle tech. Hacking, surveillance, data theft. That sort of thing.”

He nudges his chin toward Avyaan. “That’s our genius strategist. He’s the reason we’re still alive, and the best close combat fighter you’ll ever see.”

“And Aeron,” Kabir continues, “is our cleanest assassin in the cartel.”

I slowly turn to Rudra, my brows drawing in. “And you?”

He looks uncomfortable.

Kabir grins, cutting in, “Your husband’s job is… let’s just say, very hands-on.”

I catch the way the others smirk and glance at Rudra like they know he’s not going to explain it right. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I handle... interrogations.”

“That’s it?” I narrow my eyes. “Seems like the easiest job. Are you sure you even count in this group?”

Kabir snorts. “Oh, he counts. And you think it’s easy? Your husband’s the one people pray they never meet.”

“Why?”

“Because he tortures them, Doctor,”

I whip my head toward Rudra. “What?”

He raises a hand quickly. “Kabir, stop. She doesn’t need that right now.”

“Relax,” Kabir shrugs. “She needs to know eventually.”

Rudra looks at me, finally meeting my eyes. “He’s exaggerating. Don’t listen to him.”

I scan the room again, trying to make sense of anything. “Where are we?”

“Cartel base. Our main headquarters is in Italy—”

“Rudra, enough,” Avyaan cuts in, then his cold gaze turns to me. “And you—don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone. Or you’ll become our next target.”

I meet his glare,

“Avyaan.” Rudra’s voice turns warning.

Avyaan stares one last time before walking off without another word.

“Take care,” Kabir says, giving a quick wave as he and Abhimaan follow him out.

Just then, the door opens again. Lorenzo uncle enters, followed by Mr. Wilson. Mr. Wilson stands beside Rudra and studies me with piercing green eyes.

“This is confidential, Saanvi,” he says. “I trust you understand that.”

I nod slowly, swallowing hard.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but—”

“Silas, don’t,” Rudra warns without even looking at him.

“Let me ask,”

“She fainted, Silas. Ask later. Not now,” Rudra growls, turning to face him fully.

“What is it?” I ask,

Rudra sighs. “Nothing—”

“April fifth 2007.” Mr. Wilson interrupts.

I freeze and I felt my heart jump in my chest.

“California. You were crying outside an old factory… there was a dog with you. You remember that?”

My hands clench on my lap, “You were…”

He nods once. “Yeah. I was the man who found you that night.” He gestures to the side. “And Lorenzo, he’s the one who got you and your mother to the hospital.”

My eyes flick to Lorenzo uncle. Suddenly it clicks, why I always felt a strange familiarity around him.

“We’re sorry about your mother. But we do need to ask you something about—”

My stomach churns. My skin feels clammy, and a wave of nausea rises in my throat.

“Silas, that’s enough.”

Rudra’s voice slices through the room. I look up. He’s on his feet, standing between me and them.

“She’s my wife,” he says coldly, eyes locked on Mr. Wilson. “Not one of your informants.”

Then he turns to me, hand outstretched. “Come on. Let’s go.”

I hesitate, glancing between them Mr. Wilson’s piercing stare, Lorenzo uncle’s solemn blue eyes. They don’t say anything, but I can feel it. Lorenzo uncle knows. Things I never told anyone. Things he shouldn’t know.

I place my hand in Rudra’s and stand.

He gently leads me out. As we step into the hallway, I catch sight of OG sitting in a corner with Nishkarsh uncle. The moment OG sees me, he gets up.

“You okay?” he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face.

I wrap my arms around him tightly. “I was scared.”

“Shh… it’s alright now. You’re safe.” His voice was soothing as he held me close.

I pull away, I look up at him. “You knew too? About all of this?”

He lets out a slow breath and nods.

“We took over from our fathers,” Rudra says from behind me. “They were the real ones in this game. We just inherited it.”

My eyes snap to him. “Seriously?” Then I turn to Nishkarsh uncle for confirmation. He offers a small smile and nods.

“Take her back, Rudra. Keep her safe,” OG says firmly.

He nods once, then takes my hand again. We walk out of the cartel building and get into the car.

As the door shuts beside me, silence settles between us.

This man… since the day I met him, I’ve snapped, shouted, slapped him without hesitation. And now I can’t stop imagining the possibilities of what if he had snapped back? What if he twisted my arm and threw me across the room? What if one day he completely loses it and pulls that gun on me.

The thought chills me to the bone.

“Pearl,” he says, snapping me out of the spiral. His hand gently finds mine. “You okay? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry you had to see that side of me. I should’ve told you.”

Told me?

How does one even begin that kind of conversation?

Hey pearl I’m a spy who kills and tortures people when I’m not attending board meetings.

I stare straight ahead, “I’m good.”

He watches me for a second longer, then lets out a slow breath. “You don’t need to be scared of me,” he says softly, his hand still holding mine. “I would never hurt you.”

I don’t respond just keep staring out the windshield. A few minutes pass before I finally ask, “So… this is the relationship between you and Clarencia?”

He grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yeah,” he admits.

Fuck! What the hell did I even spill that day? But it’s not my fault, I didn’t know anything back then. I didn’t know any of this how could I have?



“Sir, they’re here,” Vedant says, stepping into the room.

I give him a nod. “Send them in.”

Vedant exits, and a moment later, two men walk into the room, one in his seventies, the other slightly younger. Expensive suits, polished shoes. Mr. Smith and Mr. Green.

“Mr. Smith. Mr. Green,” I say, motioning to the chairs across from me. “Please, have a seat.” They sit down.

“Rudra,” Green begins, adjusting his cufflinks, “this must be important if you had me fly in from California on such short notice. I had to leave my—”

“Mr. Green,” I interrupt, he raises a brow at the interruption. “Let’s get straight to business.”

He nods once, folding his hands in his lap. I slide a thin folder across the table, watching both their expressions as I speak.

“April 5th, 2007. Your outlet, Westbridge Times published a piece on an accident. A woman named Suhana Malhotra. Ring any bells?”

Mr. Green’s face pales almost instantly. Beside him, Smith stiffens in his chair.

“It was a car accident, wasn’t it?” I ask, locking eyes with Green.

He swallows. “Yes. That’s what was reported.”

I lean forward. “Who paid you?”

Their heads jerk up in unison. “What the hell are you insinuating?” Green snaps. “We’re media professionals, not some street peddlers people can bribe to fake a story.”

Yeah...and my wife loves me dearly.

I exhale a quiet laugh and rest my elbow on the armrest, fingers tapping lightly.

“You should really sell that line to Netflix. Great fantasy material. I mean common that’s exactly what the media has become, Mr. Green. So let’s not pretend.”

Smith clears his throat. “She had a car accident.”

I scoff, “Of course she did. Especially since your hospital forged her medical reports.”

Smith’s jaw tightens. Green shoots me a warning glare. “Careful with that look, Smith, I’m not your intern. I’m the man who knows what you had for dinner last night and how many zeros sit in your bank account.” I continue “I’ll pay you extra, just say the name.”

They exchange a glance, and Smith exhales. “I said she died in a car crash.”

I press my fingers to my temple, fighting the wave of frustration building inside me.

“I know there’s more. And I will find out who’s behind it. When I do, the both of you better pray you’re not part of the cover up because I’ll make sure your lives become a fucking documentary on regret.”

They shift uneasily. “If you dig into this,” Smith mutters, “you better be ready. I hope you make it out alive.”

“Get out,” I grit.

They rise without another word and walk out.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling in frustration when another knock hits the door.

“Come in,” I mutter, not even bothering to look up.

“Mr. Singhania,” Vedant’s voice follows,

I glance up. “What is it?”

“You have to attend Mrs. Bajaj’s business event this evening. With your wife,”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Right. Got it.”

He nods and turns to leave. “Vedant,” I call out.

He pauses at the door, glancing back.

“You told Saanvi I was at the hospital?” My brow lifts in question.

He blinks for a second before letting out a weary sigh, “You both are the same, and exhausting as hell,” he mutters and walks out without waiting for a response.

Did he just say that on my face? The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity. I don’t know whether to laugh or fire him on the spot.

But how fucking dare he.

********

AUTHOR'S POV

Rudra steps out of his room, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer.

But the moment his eyes catch the slightly ajar door across the hallway, his stride falters.

Saanvi’s room, she steps out right then, adjusting her purse, completely unaware that she’s just knocked the air out of his lungs.

He blinks once, then simply stares, eyes roaming over her, slowly, like a man taking in his undoing. Her dress hugs her frame perfectly, the soft sheen of the fabric catching light in all the right places.

She finally looks up, eyes locking with his and for a second, the world forgets to move. Her gaze trails down his frame instinctively, then she clears her throat and approaches.

“Looking beautiful, Pearl,” he murmurs. “That lipstick....”

She raises an unimpressed brow. “Wipe that look off your face.”

“I will,” he hums, “the moment you sit on—”

“Rudra!” Her eyes widen in warning. “I swear to—”

“Swear on my mouth,” he cuts in. Her cheeks flush instantly and she lowers her gaze.

“Why do you always look there?”

He smirks, leaning closer, his voice brushing against her skin. "Maybe because we always end up staring at what we secretly crave." She catches a whiff of his cologne and swallows. “And just so you know, I don’t just look at your mouth, I’ve got my sights on every inch of you.”

Her fingers curl around his shoulder, giving a half hearted push as heat climbs her neck. “Stop looking at my lipstick.”

“You’re worried about lipstick?” he chuckles, stepping back a little. “I’m worried about how I’ll behave if you keep standing this close at the event.”

Her heart skips. She slaps his shoulder and shoves him lightly. “You horny bastard, stay away from me!”

She turns on her heel, but it catches wrong and her ankle falters. Before she can stumble, Rudra’s hands are on her waist, steadying her instantly.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing down. The strap of her heel is undone.

She moves to bend down, but he stops her with a firm hand. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

“I can handle it.”

“I said I’ll do it. Sit.”

She hesitates... but sits on the edge of the couch. He crouches down in front of her, fingers brushing her ankle as he fixes the strap. His head lifts slowly. “I know you don’t need me but I need you. In every way possible.”

She looks away then stands. He rises with her. “Let’s go.”

She walks ahead without a word. But the moment his eyes fall on her back, his smile vanishes.

The dress was backless. Fully bare from shoulder blades to waist.

“Stop,” he snaps.

She halts and looks over her shoulder, confused. “What?”

He walks up and gestures toward her back. “Piche ke kapde?” (What about the back of your dress?)

She frowns. “What?”

“You’re not wearing anything there?” he ask pointing at her exposed back.

She lets out a sharp breath, scoffing. “Wow. I actually thought you wouldn’t be the one to judge clothes. Guess I was wrong. You really are a certified jerk.”

His eyes widen. “No, no—you’re misunderstanding. I didn’t say your dress is—”

“Mere kapde nahi, tumhari soch chhoti hai, Rudra fucking Singhania!” (The problem isn’t my clothes, it’s your narrow mindset, Rudra fucking Singhania!) she spat in anger. “Agli baar mere kapdon ke baare mein kuch bhi bola na tumne to tumhari jaan le lungi!" (Next time you say a word about what I wear, I swear I’ll kill you!)

He puts his hands up. “Thik hai, le lena... par meri puri baat toh sun lo—” (Fine, take my life... but at least hear me out first—)

“Shut up!” she snaps, storming off.

He watches her go, then exhales a sharp breath and follows, muttering, “She’s definitely going to regret this.”

------------------

They stop near the venue, stepping out of the. Saanvi instinctively wraps her arms around herself as goosebumps rise along her skin.

Rudra reaches out, gently takes her hand, and pulls her closer. His other hand gestures toward the waiting cameras.

“May I?”

She nods without meeting his gaze, and he slips an arm around her waist, hand splaying wide over her exposed back. She straightens her posture, facing the flashing cameras from the sea of paparazzi.

“Smile,” he murmurs softly, his own expression already composed for the press. When she doesn’t, he leans in just a little closer, lips near her ear. “Mrs. Singhania, let my public image rest in peace. A little smile won’t hurt.”

Her lips twitch involuntarily, and a faint smile graces her face, warming her cheeks.

Once inside, they were greeted almost immediately.

“Rudra!” a warm, feminine voice calls out. A graceful woman in her sixties walks over, arms outstretched. “Finally, you’re here!”

Rudra smiles and, without letting go of Saanvi’s waist, hugs the woman with his other arm. “Congratulations, Mrs. Bajaj,” he says politely as they break the hug.

The woman turns to Saanvi with kind eyes. “Oh, you must be his wife. What a beauty. So lovely to meet you.” She pulls her into a brief hug. Saanvi stiffens but manages a polite smile.

“Well, enjoy yourselves. I’ll catch up with you both later,” Mrs. Bajaj says, giving a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as the interaction ends, Saanvi wraps her arms around herself and rubs them slightly, trying to ease the chill. Rudra notices immediately, “This place is practically a forest retreat, miles away from city heat and clouds are already rolling in. It’s going to rain, Pearl. That’s why I asked if that barely-there dress was your final answer.”

Saanvi lifts her chin. “I’m not cold,” she insists, though her voice lacks conviction.

He huffs a short laugh and shrugs off his blazer. “Yeah? Well, I’m burning up. Must be all this fire you’ve walked in with. So here take this.”

He drapes the blazer over her shoulders before she can protest.

“I don’t need it,” she says quickly, reaching up to return it. 

He catches her wrist gently. “Did I say you do? I said I’m the one overheating… seeing you in that dress,” he adds with a shrug. “So I figured it’s only fair you help me cool down, you know I don’t want to combust from the view.”

She glance at his body where the open shirt reveals a hint of his chest smooth, toned. The sharp line of his collarbone draws her eyes to the tattoo inked just beneath it, her lipstick mark, boldly stamped with the words wife’s claim. She swallows hard and quickly looks away.

“So what am I now?” she scoffs. “Your personal coat rack?”

“No,” he says tucking a loose strand of her hair out of the blazer. “you’re just the only person here I trust with my heartbeat. Thought you could handle a blazer too.”

She stares at him, “It’s covering my outfit,” she mutters, glancing down. “I wore this for a reason. What about fashion?”

He chuckles. “Pearl, it’s cold, not a runway. And besides, you somehow made my oversized blazer look like part of a designer set.”

She looks down at herself, adjusting the lapels. “Really?”

“Always,” he says. “You make everything look good.”

He pauses for a beat, then leans in, “Though… something tells me you’d look even better without anything at all.”

Her hand smacks lightly against his chest. “Shameless!”

He laughs under his breath and raises both hands in mock surrender. “I said what I said.”

---------------

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Saanvi leans in, speaking close to his ear as Rudra chats with a few businessmen.

She tries to slip out of his arms, but his grip on her waist tightens slightly.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, stepping aside with her. “I’m coming with you.”

She looks at him, raising her brow and scrunching her nose. “I’m going to the bathroom. Want to rethink that invitation?”

He clicks his tongue, “Still tempted. Let’s go.”

She stares at him. “Rudra, you’ll be murdered in public one day for the kind of things you say.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. She rolls her eyes and steps away as he finally lets her go.

Inside the bathroom, she washes her hands, then dries them glancing up at her reflection. His blazer still around her shoulders. She adjusts it slightly, catching a whiff of his cologne. It’s warm spiced wood and something clean beneath it.

Her eyes flutter closed for a second as she inhales.

She shakes her head and looks back at the mirror. “I don’t need him. Even if I love him... I don’t need him. He doesn’t affect me.”

With quiet determination, she sets her hair in place, squares her shoulders, and steps back into the hallway.

Rudra stands with a small circle of businessmen, his gaze darting across the room in search of Saanvi. His focus drifts from the conversation in front of him until a deep, gravelled voice comes.

“Rudra, my boy.”

He turns at the familiar tone, finding a tall man in his early sixties walking toward him in a perfectly tailored grey suit. A polite smile rests on his face.

Yashwant Bansal.

Rudra’s posture straightens slightly, his eyes widening for a second. “Uncle,” he says with a surprised smile, reaching out for a handshake. But Yashwant pulls him in for a brief hug. Rudra returns it.

“It’s good to see you again,” Yashwant says, pulling back. “Been a long time.”

Rudra chuckles lightly, nodding. “It has.”

“I heard you got married.” Yashwant raises an eyebrow, with a dry smirk. “Didn’t expect you to settle.”

Rudra smiles, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I’d love to meet the woman who managed to tame you.”

“She’ll be back in a moment,” Rudra replies, eyes scanning the crowd again.

And then he spots her just behind Yashwant, walking back toward the hall.

“Excuse me for a minute,” he says and walks toward her, weaving through the crowd.

Saanvi was glancing around with a crease of confusion between her brows. Just as she turns, Rudra catches her wrist gently.

“Where did you disappear?”

Before she can answer, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees Vikram's name.

He frowns. Saanvi catches the name and pulls out her own phone and freezes at the sight of 10 missed calls from Anubhav, and 4 from Vikram.

Rudra picks up. “Hello?”

“Rudra. Is Saanvi with you?” Vikram’s voice came out rushed and tense.

“Yes, she’s right here.”

“Take her home. Now.”

Rudra blinks. “What? We just got here—”

“Rudra,” Vikram cuts him off, “Just get her out of there.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says and hangs up.

Beside him, Saanvi was unlocking her phone, ready to call her father.

“I want you to meet someone,” Rudra says, slipping his hand to her lower back, guiding her. He gestures toward Yashwant, who stands with his back to them. “Come on.”

Saanvi pauses, her fingers hovering over the dial. Slowly, she lowers the phone and slips it back into her purse.

They walk together toward the man waiting.

“Uncle,” Rudra calls out.

Yashwant turns.

The moment Saanvi sees his face, her entire body jolts. She stumbles back a step, her hand flying up to her chest as if struck and the colour drains from her face.

Rudra reacts instantly, catching her arm to steady her.

Yashwant’s eyes shift to her. A knowing smile curves his lips. “Saanvi?”

Her lips tremble. She doesn’t answer. Rudra steps in, keeping her close, “Yes. She’s my wife Dr. Saanvi Rudra Singhania.”

Yashwant’s smile deepens as his gaze stays far too long on her face. “She’s beautiful.”

Saanvi swallows hard. Her forehead begins to bead with sweat. Her eyes well up as her breath turns shallow, her fingers twitch at her sides. Rudra notices. His grip on her waist tightens protectively.

“Excuse me,” he says, steering her away without waiting for a reply.

They barely took two steps when Yashwant’s voice came. “Take care… little rabbit.”

Saanvi freezes mid step.

Rudra’s head snaps back toward Yashwant.

Her knees buckle slightly. A tear slips down her cheek. Her breathing grows rapidly, erratic her entire body beginning to tremble.

Rudra doesn't say a word, he lifts her into his arms. Her fingers immediately clutch around his neck, desperate and shaking.

He strides through the hall with her, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the very gaze on them.

He gently places her in the passenger seat, her body still shivering. Her face flushed, forehead slick with sweat. She won’t stop trembling. He fastens her seatbelt carefully, then leans in, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead and cheek. Her skin was burning.

He cups her face with both hands. “Pearl,” he whispers, “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’ve got you.” Her glassy eyes meet his. Another tear falls.

He brushes his thumb under her eyes, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then closes her door gently and moves to the driver’s side when his phone buzzes it was Vikram, again.

He answers. “Yeah.”

“Rudra—”

“We’re not at the event anymore,” Rudra cuts in. “I took her out of there.”

Vikram exhales on the other end. “My dad and I are coming—”

“I’ll handle it,” Rudra says, his eyes locked on Saanvi through the windshield.

“You’re not getting it, Rudra—”

“It was Yashwant Bansal.”

Vikram sighs and finally speaks, “She saw him?”

“She did, and you two—” he pauses clenching his jaw, “You better be ready to tell me everything. Because I’m done being left in the dark.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he glances at her again. Her eyes are open but unfocused, still staring at nothing.

He reaches over, squeezes her hand once, then starts the engine.

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