A silent billionaire.
A woman trained to kill.
When power marries danger, love turns lethal.
By the time we reached Rathor Mansion, the rain had become heavier.
The gates opened immediately, and the convoy entered the estate without stopping. The moment the vehicles came to a halt, half the household was already waiting outside.
News of the attack had reached the mansion long before we had.
The car door opened, and the girls were immediately surrounded by family members.
My mother was the first to reach them.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, checking Ankita's face before pulling her into a hug.
"I'm fine," Ankita whispered.
Reyansh was already beside Priya, who had tightly wrapped her arms around his waist. Sleep had settled heavily in her eyes, but she refused to close them.
Meanwhile, Nishant refused to leave Radhika's side.
I allowed my brothers to take the girls and the rest of the family inside because they started crying the moment they saw their parents.
I knew death had come dangerously close to them tonight. For a moment, they had probably believed they would never see us again. But I didn't know if they were ever truly going to heal from this.
Radhika hadn't said a word since leaving the highway. She was asleep now, her past making her suffer all over again. And it was because of me.
Everything that happened wrong around my family was because of me. I tried so hard to cut myself away from them, yet my mistakes kept putting them in danger again and again.
I opened the rear door and carefully lifted her into my arms.
She didn't wake up. She was so frightened that her body was drenched in sweat, and even with her eyes closed, tears continued rolling down her cheeks.
The family doctor had already arrived to check her.
Her small face buried itself against my chest.
We were too similar to each other, like the male and female versions of the same person. The only differences were that she was shorter, her features softer and more feminine, and she was far more talkative.
She collected gossip the way other people collected jewelry.
Her nonstop chatter always irritated the entire house, but because of her fear of me, she always remained quiet in front of me. Behind my back, however, I constantly heard her endless gossip. Even inside my room, her loud conversations somehow managed to reach me.
She was always excited to share the latest gossip from the city, and that habit annoyed me more than I cared to admit.
But still, when she didn't talk, I became scared. I always wanted her to say something, but this love of mine was something I had never told her.
After everything that happened to her, she had remained quiet for many years, and during those years the mansion felt suffocating. But after slowly recovering, she became the same annoying chatterbox Radhika once again.
In this moment, she looked exactly like the little girl who used to follow me around the mansion years ago.
It had taken her many years to heal.
It had taken all of us many years to heal.
And this time, I would not let anyone suffer because of the past we had left behind.
Something dark twisted inside my chest.
I started walking toward the corridors.
The mansion suddenly felt too quiet. My footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
I pushed open her bedroom door and carried her inside before lowering her carefully onto the bed and pulling the blanket over her.
The doctor immediately rushed forward to examine her.
She remained asleep, lost somewhere inside her dreams, and I found myself wondering what she was seeing. The thought alone made me uneasy.
Then suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist too hard.
Her eyes flew open.
"No!"
The fear in her voice hit harder than any bullet ever could.
I immediately sat beside her.
"Radhika."
Her breathing became uneven, and her gaze darted around the room before finally landing on me. She recognized she was safe and that I was here.
She looked seconds away from breaking apart in tears. Her warm-toned skin had turned completely pale with fear, while her cheeks and nose had gone red.
"Bhai..." she whispered.
"I'm here."
She stared at me for several seconds before slowly letting go of my wrist, but even then, her hands were trembling.
"You are home," I said quietly. "Nobody is going to hurt you again."
The words sounded simple, but I knew better. Some wounds didn't care about locked doors or armed guards. Some wounds never left.
A maid entered carrying water.
The moment the woman gently touched Radhika's shoulder, she flinched violently.
The glass slipped from her hand and shattered against the floor.
The maid immediately stepped back.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Then I heard a quiet crying sound near the door. Someone was crying while trying desperately to hide it.
Maa.
She was too afraid to enter the room. Too broken to see her daughter suffering again. She stood outside the door, crying silently while slightly peeking inside to look at Radhika's condition.
Radhika looked horrified.
"No... no... I'm sorry..."
Her voice was shaking now. It had been more than ten years, and she still reacted like this.
Her hair shifted slightly during the movement. The marks came into my vision again, faint beneath the light. Silent reminders of my weakness.
My jaw tightened.
I knew every single one.
I remembered where they came from.
Who caused them.
What they had tried to do.
And for one dangerous moment, I wanted them alive again. Just so I could kill them twice, and this time far more brutally than before.
Radhika noticed where I was looking. Immediately, she pulled her hair forward. The same way she always hid them. Trying to make everyone forget her pain. Pretending everything was fine.
The doctor checked her carefully and confirmed she was physically unharmed.
But what about her mind?
"Sleep," I told her quietly.
She shook her head.
"I don't want to."
Her eyes lowered immediately. Her fear wouldn't let her close them.
"Will you stay until I sleep?"
The request shattered something inside me.
I brushed her hair away from her face.
"Of course."
"Can I stay here?"
The soft voice came from the doorway.
I turned.
Trishika stood there quietly, one hand resting against the doorframe as if she wasn't sure whether she should enter or not.
Radhika looked up and immediately nodded.
Without another word, Trishika walked inside and sat beside her on the bed.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Trishika gently took Radhika's trembling hand into hers.
"Some wounds don't heal just because time passes," she said softly. "People like to say that time fixes everything. It doesn't. Time only teaches us how to carry the pain."
Her voice remained calm, but there was something strangely familiar about the sadness hidden beneath it.
"There will be days when you feel normal. Then one memory, one sound, one smell will bring everything back so suddenly that it feels like you're living through it all over again."
Her thumb brushed gently across Radhika's hand.
"You'll ask yourself why it happened. Why your life changed. Why people can be so cruel. Why some scars remain long after the danger is gone."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"And one day you'll realize that none of those questions have answers good enough to heal what hurts."
The room fell silent.
"But surviving isn't about forgetting," she continued. "It's about refusing to let what happened become the end of your story."
Her eyes lowered briefly.
"So don't force yourself to be brave every minute. You don't have to carry everything alone. We're all here for you."
Her voice softened even further.
"There was a time when I thought everything important had been taken away from me too."
A shadow crossed her expression for only a second before she smiled gently.
"But somehow... I'm still here. And so are you. We're stronger than we think."
Radhika broke instantly.
She moved forward and buried her face against Trishika's arm. This time, the tears weren't born from fear. They came from the relief of finally feeling safe.
Trishika held her quietly, one hand stroking her hair as though comforting a child after a nightmare.
Slowly, little by little, Radhika's breathing steadied. Eventually, she fell asleep in Trishika's arms.
I was surprised by how carefully she chose her words. She had managed to calm Radhika completely. The grace with which she handled the situation left me speechless.
Carefully, she lifted Radhika onto the bed and tucked a blanket around her before quietly leaving the room without a word.
I remained there for several minutes, watching Radhika sleep peacefully.
Only when I was certain she was resting comfortably did I quietly leave the room and close the door behind me.
The mansion was still awake despite the late hour. Fear had a way of keeping people awake.
As I walked through the hallway, I caught sight of all the elders gathered downstairs. Their expressions were serious. The attack had shaken everyone, especially after learning how close it had come to reaching the girls.
I didn't stop.
Right now, I wasn't interested in discussions.
I was interested in answers.
By the time I entered my room, the bathroom door was closed and the sound of running water echoed faintly from inside.
Trishika was taking a shower.
She needed it.
Tonight had terrified her too.
The image of her standing beside the road flashed through my mind. Her saree was disheveled and her hair tangled. Unstoppable tears had filled her eyes. She had been shivering from fear, and her skin looked several shades paler than usual.
I loosened my tie and sat down on the edge of the bed.
My mind returned to the same irritating thoughts it had been replaying for hours before finally shifting back to the attack.
The perfume.
The scent still lingered in my nose.
It was the same perfume Velvet Viper used, and I could detect it even from a distance because I was badly addicted to that scent.
But what was so strange if Velvet Viper and Trishika both used the same perfume?
What was so shocking about that?
Thousands of women probably used the same brand. Women's choices were often influenced by trends, and it could easily be popular among them.
I dismissed the thought immediately.
My gaze shifted toward the trees outside the window, their leaves shaking beneath the cool night wind.
I stepped onto the balcony and held out my hand. A beautiful dry leaf, its color slowly fading, drifted down and landed in my palm.
I remembered carrying Velvet Viper and carrying Trishika. Both women had the same height, the same weight, and the same build.
Almost identical.
A humorless laugh escaped me.
Half the women in this country probably shared those same measurements.
It proved absolutely nothing.
I went back inside, sat down on the chair again, and removed my black gloves.
Velvet Viper and Trishika couldn't be the same person.
One walked into rooms like she owned death itself. The other carried love and softness for everyone around her.
Completely different from each other and yet the thought refused to disappear completely.
I closed my eyes and another memory surfaced.
The vase.
The moment she had attacked me in the dark.
Most people threw objects wildly when frightened but she hadn't.
The vase had come directly toward my head. The force had been perfect and the aim had been accurate.
That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
But it could have been a coincidence. She was always frightened. Perhaps she had mastered the skill of throwing things accurately after reacting out of fear so many times before.
But still, tonight, during the attack, several details felt wrong.
The guard's story felt incomplete, like someone had carefully arranged the pieces before I arrived.
My jaw tightened.
No.
I was overthinking.
I was creating scenarios inside my head without any proof and focusing on baseless thoughts.
The attack had put everyone on edge, including me. There were bigger problems to focus on. Someone had targeted my family. That was the only thing that mattered, and I intended to find out who.
I immediately called Daksh.
"Call everyone. Early morning meeting at the farmhouse. I want every one of you there."
Without waiting for a response, I ended the call.
The attack had left too many unanswered questions.
I turned around just as the bathroom door opened and Trishika stepped out.
A navy-blue suit hugged her frame perfectly while droplets of water still slid from her damp hair. Under normal circumstances, I might have noticed how elegant she looked.
Instead, my attention settled on her hands. She was biting the skin around her nails, and her gaze remained fixed on the floor.
"Are you fine?" I asked. "Do you want to talk?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"I'm fine," she said. "I want to go to my parents' house for a few days."
She still wasn't looking at me, and she continued staring at the floor.
I remained silent.
"I asked the elders. They said if you're fine with it, I can go."
Her fingers moved to the other hand.
The skin around her nails was already red from how much she had been biting them.
The attack had affected her far more than she was willing to admit, and honestly, I understood.
Being with her parents would probably help more than staying here. I knew what had happened to her many years ago, and I knew she didn't trust me completely yet.
The last thing I wanted was for her not to suffer mentally again because of everything that had happened. For now, being with her parents was the better choice.
I watched as she began scratching her palm with her opposite hand. Fortunately, her nails were already too short to do any real damage.
I knew she carried scars just like Radhika did.
She never spoke about her past. Maybe because I had never paid enough attention to her, or maybe because she had never trusted me enough to tell me, and that was entirely my fault.
But either way, forcing answers out of her would only make things worse. I would wait until she chose to speak willingly.
"Alright," I said finally.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"You can go," I continued. "If you need anything, call me."
She nodded.
"Now go to sleep."
She didn't look at me. Not even once.
She simply walked toward the bed and lay down beneath the blanket. Within minutes, exhaustion finally dragged her into sleep.
I remained standing there for several moments, making sure she was actually resting.
Only after those chartreuse eyes remained closed did I finally leave the room.
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the roads were still wet when I drove toward the farmhouse.
The property sat far from the city, hidden behind private land, security checkpoints, and enough distance to keep unwanted ears away from important conversations.
One by one, reports began covering the table. I reviewed them again and again, but sleep never arrived for even a single moment.
Morning came long before sleep did.
Sunlight slowly crept through the farmhouse windows while another cup of untouched coffee sat beside me.
The moment everyone arrived, the discussion began.
The atmosphere inside the farmhouse meeting room was already tense enough to suffocate someone.
Files, photographs, route maps, security reports, and surveillance screenshots covered the table while Nishant, Reyansh, Kartik, Daksh, and Sameer sat around it.
I remained standing.
My hands rested against the edge of the table as my eyes moved across every report collected since the attack.
A random attack was impossible.
My old enemies, Akash Singhania and Vivek Chauhan, wouldn't do something like this. For nearly a decade, we had been trying to destroy each other's empires to the point where one could be driven to suicide, but we never hurt each other's families.
Two months ago, Nishant and Reyansh were attacked, and now this.
My gaze shifted toward the photographs spread across the table.
This wasn't a professional assassination attempt. If someone truly wanted a Rathore dead, they would have used a cleaner method.
Was the target really my family, or did they simply want to show me what they were capable of if they wanted to?
Two men had openly stopped the vehicle on a highway and barely put up a fight.
Nothing about it made sense, and I had no answers.
Finally, I straightened and stepped away from the table, telling Daksh to fix a meeting with Velvet Viper that evening.
Valentino Ravello's party mattered.
I needed weapons and, most importantly, I needed answers about the third and fourth players who had suddenly entered this game alongside an assassin.
But before any of that-
I wanted the guard.
He was the only witness still breathing, and I intended to question him personally.
A few minutes later, I reached the basement.
The guard was already sweating by the time I entered the room.
He stood immediately. His face was pale and his hands trembled slightly.
Fear made people honest, most of the time.
I closed the door behind me and remained silent for several seconds, letting the pressure build naturally. The room felt smaller with every passing moment.
Finally, I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him.
"Start again."
The guard swallowed.
"S-Sir, after the attackers stopped the vehicle, I got out and engaged them."
My expression remained unchanged.
"How did you engage them?"
"I... fired at both of them."
I leaned back slightly.
"Interesting."
The guard's throat moved because both of us knew he wasn't part of any sniper unit. He wasn't even one of my highly trained men. He was ordinary security. Good enough to guard, not good enough to outshoot armed attackers.
"Tell me exactly what happened."
He repeated the story again.
I listened quietly. His record showed he had served very well for years.
They were snipers, but I couldn't confirm how highly trained they were. Maybe he was telling the truth.
Just because I had some doubts didn't mean I could torture him.
The greater fact was that he had saved my family. Even though I didn't fully believe everything he said, my family had been on the edge, and he had saved them.
So I should have appreciated that, but instead I was scaring him.
His face lost even more color. The pressure became unbearable. Sweat rolled down the side of his face.
For a moment, I genuinely thought he was about to say something, but he didn't.
I walked toward the door before stopping beside him.
"If I discover you're hiding something..." I said. "You know what I will do."
I left the room with my mind full of questions but no solutions.
The farmhouse finally became silent after the guard left.
I remained standing beside the table, staring at photographs and CCTV footage from various toll plazas scattered across it.
The place where the attack had happened had no cameras, leaving us with only eyewitness accounts of what had taken place.
Then my gaze shifted toward the black invitation box resting nearby.
Valentino Ravello.
A man who never sent invitations casually. I walked toward it and opened the box.
Inside rested an expensive bottle of white wine alongside a black card embossed with silver lettering.
An invitation.
I had never attended any of his previous gatherings because I never needed anything as badly as I did now. Now I was losing everything, so I had to make a greater plan with a stock of high-end and exclusive weapons.
I poured myself a glass and leaned back against the table.
Valentino would be there. And if I wanted answers about the new players entering the game, I needed that meeting.
A knock sounded against the door twice. Then the door opened before I could answer.
My attention lifted immediately.
Velvet Viper.
She stood lazily against the doorway like she owned the building.
Her beautiful figure was embraced by a white shirt, black tailored trousers, and black high heels, her signature clothing style.
An oversized black coat fell below her knees, hiding most of her hands inside the sleeves and making it impossible to tell how many weapons she carried. She looked elegant for someone who had killed so many people.
With her, the answer was usually too many.
Her dark hair rested in a loose braid while soft bangs framed her face. Several strands had escaped completely and fallen beside her eyes.
The look should have appeared careless. Instead, it looked deliberate.
Mischief danced inside her dark eyes, and her blood-red lips curved slowly into a smile. She was laughing at my fall again, and this move only made me more obsessed with her because even after my warning, she still dared to laugh at me.
A bouquet of white lilies rested in her hand. She had brought white flowers to remind me how close death had been.
I couldn't decide whether she was mocking me or flirting.
Probably both.
The sweet scent of roses followed her inside, spreading through the room until it swallowed the smell of wine completely.
I hated that perfume. Not because it smelled bad, but because every time she wore it, I noticed. And every time I noticed, my obsession became worse.
So now she had apparently chosen a different method.
Death by obsession.
And somehow, it was working.
She walked further into the room and placed the bouquet of white lilies directly on the table beside my wine glass.
My eyes moved from the flowers to her face.
"Flowers?" I asked.
"From me, darling."
The smile on her lips widened slightly.
"Not exactly."
I folded my arms across my chest.
"Then what are they for?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully, as if genuinely considering the answer. Then she bit her lip, and for a moment, the world seemed to slip from my grip. It was distracting. Seductive. Yet her smile never disappeared.
"I thought someone in your family might be dead."
The words landed so casually that for a second I almost wondered if I had heard them correctly.
Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
"But I suppose I judged too quickly," she continued lightly. "No one has died yet."
The woman had actually said yet.
My jaw tightened.
She glanced down at the bouquet, her soft hand brushing the flower petals before looking back at me.
"Keep them anyway."
A bright light appeared in her eyes.
"With the number of mistakes you're making lately, I'm sure you'll find a use for them in the future."
For a moment, I simply stared at her, then I laughed.
A low, dangerous sound escaped me.
Most people feared me. Nobody stood in front of me and mocked me openly. Nobody deliberately attacked my pride and walked away smiling afterward.
Yet somehow, this woman did it repeatedly. She kept doing it again and again, reducing my pride to dust.
And what made it worse was that she did it with complete confidence.
How insane was that? And how insane was I that I still wanted her to do it again and again?
In two long strides, I crossed the distance between us. Before she could react, my hand closed around her throat. The grip tightened just enough to remind her who she was speaking to.
I shoved her backward against the table. Her body collided with the edge of it, and the bouquet beside her shifted slightly.
For the first time, the amusement in her eyes flickered.
I leaned closer, my gaze fixed on her face.
"Do you enjoy provoking me?"
My grip tightened slightly.
"Or are you simply trying to discover how much patience I have left?"
Her words were perfect for driving a knife straight into my chest.
She looked up at me without lowering her gaze.
The corner of her mouth lifted, as if being pinned against a table by me was somehow entertaining.
She leaned forward until only a breath separated us. Her fingers curled lightly around my wrist before she rose onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth.
It lasted only a moment-brief enough to feel like a challenge rather than affection. When she pulled back, a quiet laugh escaped her lips. Amusement danced in her dark eyes as she held my gaze without the slightest trace of fear.
"Kill me?" she murmured, the smile never leaving her face. "That will give you nothing."
Her gaze drifted toward the bouquet of white lilies, the petals falling from her hands one by one.
"Besides..."
She tilted her head slightly.
"You won't kill me."
My jaw tightened, and my grip didn't loosen even a little, but her smile only widened.
"You're far too obsessed. You don't like the idea of me dying. It's not you."
I tightened my grip around her throat even more and lifted her onto one leg.
She laughed loudly at me.
"Keep the flowers, Mr. Rathore," she said.
"The funeral might arrive sooner than you think. Or who knows, it might be yours."
I released her and took two steps back.
She jumped onto the table, sat down, leaned back, and crossed her legs.
The amusement vanished from her face instantly, and she became serious.
"The problem with you," she said quietly, "is that you're hunting the wrong people."
The words lingered in the room.
She lifted the wine bottle and refilled the glass I had been drinking from, then brought it to her lips and took a slow sip.
"You think I'm doing nothing," I said. "I've been looking for them."
"Really?" she asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against the table, making a soft tic-tic sound.
"Their ballroom party at Valentino Ravello's tomorrow," I said, taking the bottle of wine and drinking a couple of sips.
"And you're coming with me."
She looked surprised, and her fingers loosened around her glass before she placed it back on the table.
"What?"
The single word carried enough disbelief to amuse me.
"Why would I come?"
She immediately narrowed her eyes. That alone improved my mood. I set the bottle back on the table.
"Don't you remember?"
I placed both hands on either side of her, trapping her between me and the table.
"You destroyed my property."
A smirk pulled at my mouth.
"Consider this one of the ways you'll be paying me back."
Her expression shifted-anger flashing across her face. Her grip tightened, but she drew a steady breath and forced herself to stay composed.
The irritation was immediate and genuine, and it only made it more satisfying.
She held my gaze for several seconds. Then, finally, she said,
"Fine."
I walked into the adjoining room and returned carrying a black garment bag. Without explanation, I dropped it into her lap.
"What's this?"
"Your clothes."
She stared at the bag, then at me.
I was sure she was imagining several ways to murder me. Most of them were probably painful, but I didn't care.
Reaching forward, I gently brushed a hand over her head, letting my fingers slide through the length of her hair.
Her glare immediately intensified.
"Don't be late, darling."
That earned me an even colder stare. Satisfied with myself, I stepped back.
She rose from the table without another word, grabbed the garment bag, and headed toward the door.
Right before leaving, she stopped, turned, and shot me one final murderous look.
Then she disappeared.
I looked down at the white lilies resting on the table.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
If I didn't do something soon, one day those flowers might end up resting on the grave of someone I loved.
Or my own.
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