Around 9 PM, the night hung heavy and silent, the kind that made your skin crawl with anticipation. Mrityunjay’s sleek black car screeched to a halt before the iron gates of his grand, looming mansion—a place that once echoed with secrets and shadows. Without sparing a moment, he swung the car door open and stormed out, rage radiating off him like heat from fire. With no gentleness, he yanked the gate open and marched toward the passenger side. He flung the door wide, grabbing Anshika’s delicate wrist like a vice, and began dragging her out. “Let go of me!” she cried out, breath shaky, nails digging into his hand. “Where are you taking me? Let me go!”