The sound of shattering glass echoed through the ballroom. Guests were screaming, scattering like leaves in a storm. Aryan pushed Avani behind a massive marble pillar, his body shielding hers.
"Stay here! Don't move until I come for you!" he barked, his eyes scanning the room.
"Aryan, wait!" Avani reached out, her fingers brushing his sleeve, but he was already gone, moving with the lethal grace of a predator.
Three men in black masks were struggling with the security guards near the main entrance. But they weren't there for the money or the jewelry. Their eyes were fixed on the master of the house.
"Aryan Singhania! You think you can bury the past? We've come to collect the debt!" one of the men shouted, brandishing a heavy iron rod.
Avani watched from behind the pillar, her heart hammering. She saw Aryan take down two of the men with professional precision—a side of him she had never imagined. He wasn't just a businessman; he was a man who knew how to fight for his life.
But then, she saw it. The third man was sneaking up behind Aryan with a jagged piece of glass in his hand.
"Aryan! Behind you!" Avani screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Aryan spun around just in time to deflect the blow, but the glass sliced through the expensive fabric of his tuxedo, drawing a line of crimson blood across his shoulder. He groaned, delivering a powerful kick that sent the attacker flying into a table of champagne glasses.
The police sirens wailed in the distance. The attackers, realizing they were outnumbered, scrambled through the broken windows into the dark night.
The room was a mess of broken glass and expensive ruins. Aryan stood in the center, breathing heavily, his white shirt stained with blood.
Avani ran to him, forgetting her fear, forgetting the contract. "You're bleeding! We need to get you to a doctor."
"I'm fine," he snapped, but he swayed slightly.
"No, you're not fine!" Avani grabbed his arm, leading him toward the private elevator. "For once in your life, stop being the 'Heartless King' and just be a human who's hurt."
Back in his private suite, the silence was deafening. Avani fetched a first-aid kit, her hands trembling as she cleaned the wound on his shoulder. Aryan sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, the fierce mask finally slipping away.
"Why did they say you owed them a debt, Aryan?" she asked softly, applying the antiseptic.
Aryan stayed silent for a long time. Then, he looked up at her, his eyes filled with a raw, agonizing honesty. "My father... he wasn't the saint the world thought he was. He built this empire on the broken lives of people like those men. I've been trying to pay them off, to fix his mistakes... but some debts can't be paid with money."
Avani's hand paused. She looked at this powerful man, realizing he was just as much a prisoner of this mansion as she was.
"Is that why you needed me?" she whispered. "To show the board that you're 'stable' while you fix your father's mess?"
Aryan didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently touching her cheek. His skin was cold, but his gaze was burning. "I needed a bride to save the company, Avani. But I didn't expect to find someone who would save me from myself."
Before Avani could breathe, the bedroom door was kicked open. It was Vikram, the man with the scar. He wasn't running this time. He was smiling, and he had a gun pointed straight at Avani's heart
"The debt isn't settled yet, Aryan," Vikram sneered. "Let's see how much this 'investment' of yours is really worth."