Chapter 1: The Crimson Invitation
The rain in Mumbai didn't wash things clean; it only blurred the edges of the sins committed in the dark.
Ananya stood by the window of her father's crumbling study, her fingers tracing the jagged line of a crack in the glass. Below, black SUVs lined the narrow street of their middle-class neighborhood like a funeral procession. Men in sharp charcoal suits stood like statues in the downpour, their hands folded formally in front of them.
"He's here," her father whispered. His voice was a ghost of its former self.
"Who, Papa?" Ananya turned, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "Who is so important that you've locked the doors and hidden the keys?"
Before he could answer, the heavy mahogany front door didn't just open—it shattered.
The silence that followed was heavier than the noise. Through the dust and the rain-slicked doorway stepped a man who looked like he had been carved out of shadows and expensive silk.
Advik Malhotra.
The name alone was a death sentence in the underworld. They called him The Architect because he didn't just kill his enemies; he deconstructed their lives until there was nothing left but rubble. He was young, strikingly handsome in a way that felt dangerous, and his eyes—darker than the Mumbai night—settled immediately on Ananya.
He didn't look at her father. He didn't look at the antique silver or the stacks of debt notices on the desk. He only looked at her.
"You're late, Mehra," Advik said, his voice a smooth, terrifying purr.
"I... I need more time, Advik Beta," her father stammered, sinking to his knees. "The shipments, the interest... I can pay."
Advik stepped deeper into the room, the heels of his Italian leather boots clicking rhythmically. He stopped inches from Ananya. She could smell him—sandalwood, rain, and the faint, metallic scent of something she didn't want to name.
He reached out, his gloved thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Ananya flinched, but he didn't let go. His grip was iron wrapped in velvet.
"I don't want your money, Mehra," Advik said, his gaze never leaving Ananya's wide, amber eyes. "The debt is too high for paper. I want something permanent."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against Ananya's ear, sending a chill through her soul that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Pack your bags, Ananya," he whispered. "The priest is waiting. You have twenty minutes to stop being a daughter and start being a Malhotra."
"I won't," she gasped, her voice trembling. "You can't force me."
Advik pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. A slow, cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He pulled a small, blood-stained locket from his pocket—the one her brother had been wearing when he went missing three days ago.
"I'm not forcing you, Jaan," he said, dropping the locket into her palm. "I'm giving you a choice. Marry me tonight, or find out exactly how much blood this city can swallow."
The locket felt like a piece of ice melting in my palm, leaving behind the metallic stain of my brother's blood. I looked from the jewelry to the man standing before me, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.
"You took him," I breathed, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. "You took Ishaan to get to us."
Advik didn't deny it. He didn't even blink. He simply adjusted the cuff of his shirt, the gold watch on his wrist glinting under the flickering study lamp. "I took what was collateral. Your father gambled with things he didn't own, Ananya. In my world, that has consequences."
My father let out a choked sob from the floor, his face buried in his hands. "Ananya, please... he'll kill him. He'll kill us all."
"Look at him," Advik commanded.
I didn't move.
"Look at him, Ananya," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibration that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I forced my eyes toward my father. The man who had been my hero looked small, shriveled, and pathetic. He wasn't just losing his money; he was offering me up as a sacrificial lamb to save his own skin.
"That is the man you are protecting," Advik said, stepping so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He was a wall of muscle and suppressed violence. "He sold your soul the moment he signed that first contract. I'm just here to collect the payment."
He reached out, his gloved hand tilting my chin up until I was forced to meet his gaze. His eyes weren't just dark; they were a void, swallowing every bit of light in the room.
"Twenty minutes," Advik reminded me, his thumb grazing my jawline. "If you aren't downstairs by then, I'll send my men to find your brother. But I won't promise what state he'll be in when they do."
He let go of my chin, the sudden absence of his touch making me shiver. He turned to the door, but stopped at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder.
"And Ananya?"
I stayed frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Don't bother trying the back window. My men are already inside the house. There is no version of tonight where you don't leave with me."
He walked out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving me in the suffocating silence of a room that no longer felt like home. My father reached out to grab the hem of my kurta, but I stepped back, revulsion twisting in my gut.
I looked at the locket. I looked at the rain lashing against the window.
I wasn't just a girl anymore. I was a transaction.
I turned and ran up the stairs, not to pack a suitcase of clothes, but to find the one thing I had hidden under my mattress—the small, silver dagger my grandfather had given me for protection.
If Advik Malhotra wanted a wife, he was going to get one. But he was about to find out that even a bird in a cage has claws.