Akshita’s lashes fluttered again.

This time, they stayed open.

A soft, confused sound left her throat as awareness crept back in—slow, cautious, like it wasn’t sure it was welcome. The ceiling above her felt unfamiliar for half a second too long, the light too bright, the air too still.

Reva noticed first.

“Akshu,” she whispered, voice breaking as she leaned forward. “Hey… hey, you’re okay. You’re with us.”

Shivangi was at her side instantly, sliding an arm behind Akshita’s shoulders with careful gentleness. “Slowly,” she murmured. “Don’t try to move too fast.”

Akshita frowned faintly, her brows knitting together as confusion gave way to recognition. “Shivu…?” Her voice was hoarse, dry. “Reva…?”

They helped her sit up against the pillows, adjusting the bed, tucking the sheet around her instinctively—as if shielding her from something unnamed.

Before either of them could say another word, Avinash was there.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed as if his legs had given out, both hands shaking as they came up to her face. His fingers brushed her cheek, light, reverent—like he was afraid she might disappear if he pressed too hard.

“Akshu, mera baccha,” he choked. Tears spilled freely down his face, unchecked, unashamed. “Are you okay? H-how are you feeling? Is it hurting anywhere? Say something, please—”

She blinked at him, startled.

Then her expression softened.

“Bhaiya,” she said gently, her hand lifting to hold his wrists, grounding him. “Calm down.”

Her grip was weak—but real.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she continued, voice steadier than anyone expected. “Just… feeling a bit dizzy. Must be because of that drug in the wine.”

Avinash froze.

Drug…?

Akshita exhaled slowly, irritation flickering through the haze. “That bitch,” she muttered. “The new chef. It was all her doing. I knew something tasted off.”

The room went unnaturally still.

Shivangi and Reva exchanged a sharp, confused look.

Avinash swallowed hard. “Wait,” he said carefully. “You… you remember?”

Akshita looked at him like the question itself was strange. “Of course I do,” she replied. “Why would I forget?”

She shifted slightly, testing her body, then scoffed weakly. “I know I don’t drink much, but I’m not that weak of a drinker.”

Her gaze drifted around the room then—taking in the machines, the IV, the unfamiliar tension clinging to every corner.

Her brows furrowed.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Where is… blue eyes?”

The name hit like a blade.

Reva’s breath caught audibly.

Shivangi’s fingers tightened on the bedsheet.

Akshita noticed immediately. “What?” she asked, unease creeping into her voice now. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Reva swallowed, tears stinging her eyes as she stepped closer to the bed. She took Akshita’s hand in both of hers, squeezing gently. “Akshu,” she said softly, “listen to me, okay? Don’t panic.”

Akshita’s heart began to pound. “Reva, just tell me.”

Reva nodded, forcing herself to breathe and started telling everything.

Akshita’s fingers curled instinctively around the sheet.

“So we came to your room,” Reva continued, eyes glistening. “And… and we found you. Unconscious. Your skin was cold, Akshu. Your pulse was barely there.”

Akshita’s breathing slowed, shallow now.

“And Rayan,” Reva whispered, tears spilling despite herself, “was there too. On the bed. Naked. You were both—”

Her voice broke completely.

“The doctor said your condition… the bruises… the way your body reacted—” Reva shook her head violently. “She said you were drugged. That you both were. And that under the influence… you got intimate.”

The words fell into the room like shattered glass.

Akshita stared at Reva.

Not blinking.

Not breathing.

For a moment, it was as if the world had stopped moving.

“That’s—” Her voice came out strangled. She swallowed hard, shock ripping through her chest. “That’s not what happened.”

Her eyes darted between Reva and Shivangi, searching, desperate. “Who even told you that?”

Shivangi flinched, guilt flickering across her face. “The doctor,” she said quietly. “The one who came before Ruhi. She told us… she told us you both were drugged and that things went out of control.”

Akshita’s hands trembled now.

“No,” she whispered. Then louder, firmer, “No.”

She shook her head, disbelief crashing into anger, into heartbreak. “You guys know Rayan,” she said, voice shaking but resolute. “Even if he had to kill himself—” her breath hitched painfully “—he would do it. But he would never harm me. Never.”

The room fell silent.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Avinash’s jaw tightened, his eyes shining with something dangerously close to regret.

Akshita closed her eyes for a brief second, steadying herself. When she opened them again, there was clarity there—painful, unwavering clarity.

“Listen to me,” she said softly. “I remember everything.”

Flashback

The warmth didn’t hit all at once.

It seeped in slowly, deceptively gentle, like a fever that hadn’t yet decided to announce itself.

Akshita loosened her grip around the wine glass, frowning slightly as she shifted in her seat. The room felt… closer. The air heavier. Her skin prickled, a strange heat blooming beneath it, unfamiliar and unsettling.

“Is it just me,” she asked lightly, though her voice carried a faint strain she didn’t recognize, “or is it suddenly very warm in here?”

Rayan didn’t respond immediately.

He was staring at his own glass.

Too intently.

His fingers tightened around the stem, knuckles whitening as his gaze sharpened, instinct flaring somewhere deep inside him—an alarm he had learned to trust long ago. He lifted the glass slightly, not to drink, but to observe. The color. The way the liquid clung to the sides.

Then he brought it closer and inhaled.

Just once.

His jaw locked.

“Akshita,” he said quietly, but there was an edge to his voice now—controlled, alert. “Don’t drink any more of that.”

She looked at him, confused. “Why?”

“There’s something mixed in it,” he said, certainty replacing hesitation. “This isn’t just wine.”

Her heartbeat spiked. “What do you mean… mixed?”

“I don’t know what exactly,” he replied, eyes darkening as another wave of heat rolled through him, stronger this time, sharper. “But it’s not accidental.”

Understanding dawned slowly, then all at once.

“The chef,” Akshita whispered. “The new one.”

Rayan nodded once. “Yes.”

They stood up almost in sync, the unease between them thickening into something dangerous. Akshita scanned the room quickly, then turned toward the kitchen wing, already moving.

“I’ll find her,” she said.

They searched everywhere.

The kitchen.

The staff quarters.

The back corridors.

The pantry was empty. The back entrance ajar.

“She’s gone,” Akshita said, dread curling tightly in her chest.

Rayan’s expression hardened. “Which means this was planned.”

Another surge of heat rolled through him, harsher now. He clenched his fists, forcing his breathing to remain steady. “We need to get to our rooms. Immediately.”

Akshita nodded, though her own pulse was racing now, her body feeling oddly heavy and light at the same time. They started walking, their footsteps echoing softly down the corridor.

Halfway there, Rayan slowed.

Akshita noticed instantly. “Blue eyes?”

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly, stopping a step away from her. Sweat had begun to bead at his temple, his collar damp against his throat. He took another step back, deliberately increasing the distance between them.

That alone made her chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“Stay there,” he added, voice low. “Just… give me some space.”

The drug was working its way through his system mercilessly now. Heat pooled low in his body, awareness sharpening into something achingly physical. He could feel her presence even without touching her—the warmth of her skin, the faint familiar scent that always made his thoughts stumble even on the best days.

He turned slightly away from her, jaw clenched, trying to breathe through it.

But then his vision blurred.

His step faltered.

Rayan swayed, balance slipping.

“Rayan!”

Akshita moved on instinct.

She caught him by the collar just as he tipped forward, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back toward her. The sudden contact sent a jolt through both of them—electric, unrelenting.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

So did she.

They were too close.

Too close.

His hands came up reflexively, gripping her arms to steady himself. Her breath fanned across his jaw, warm and uneven. Her eyes were darker now, pupils blown, lips parted slightly as she struggled to make sense of the sensation roaring through her veins.

For one suspended moment, the corridor ceased to exist.

There was only heat.

Only awareness.

Only the way his grip tightened—not possessive, not intentional, but desperate. The way her fingers twisted tighter in his collar instead of letting go.

“This… this is bad,” he whispered, his voice rough, strained with restraint. “Akshita, we need to—”

She nodded, though she didn’t move away. “I know,” she breathed. “I know.”

But her body didn’t listen.

Neither did his.

They stood there, breaths mingling, the drug blurring the line between thought and impulse. The heat didn’t feel artificial anymore—it felt like something long buried had been dragged to the surface and set on fire.

Rayan was the first to pull back.

With visible effort, he pried her fingers from his collar, stepping away as if distance itself were a lifeline. “We can’t stay here,” he said. “Come on.”

They made it to his room somehow, the walk a haze of shallow breaths and unspoken tension. The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded far too loud in the charged silence.

Akshita leaned back against it for a second, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Rayan,” she said, uncertain, overwhelmed. “I don’t feel right.”

“I know,” he replied, voice tight. He paced once, then stopped, turning away from her again, every muscle in his body screaming. “You should sit. Lie down. I’ll—”

He didn’t finish.

The drug twisted his thoughts, blurred his edges. He could feel his control thinning, fraying with every second she remained in the same space.

She crossed the room before he could stop her.

Her hand brushed his arm.

That was enough.

He turned.

Their eyes met.

And whatever fragile barrier he had left cracked.

The kiss wasn’t planned.

It happened like gravity—inevitable, consuming.

Her hands slid up his chest as if they had always known the way, fingers pressing into warm skin, her lips parting against his with a soft sound that went straight through him. His restraint shattered in fragments, his hands coming to her waist instinctively, pulling her closer before he could think better of it.

The heat spiked violently.

They stumbled toward the bed, breaths broken, movements clumsy and urgent all at once. Akshita pushed him back without thinking, her palms against his shoulders as he fell onto the mattress, eyes dark, chest heaving.

For a second, he let it happen.

Let himself feel.

Let himself want.

Her hands tugged at his shirt, fabric sliding over his skin until it came free, leaving him bare and burning beneath her gaze. She hovered over him, hair falling forward, lips swollen, eyes unfocused but drawn inexorably to him.

His mind screamed yes.

His body echoed it.

But his heart—his heart roared no.

“Akshita,” he said hoarsely, reaching up to catch her wrists just as her fingers brushed the hem of her top. “Stop.”

She froze, blinking down at him. “Rayan…?”

He turned his face away from her, jaw clenched so hard it ached. He rolled out from beneath her in one abrupt motion, standing with his back to her, fists clenched at his sides, breath coming in harsh, uneven pulls.

“I can’t,” he said, voice breaking despite his effort to keep it steady. “Not like this. Not when you’re not fully in control.”

His entire body shook with the effort it took to walk away from her.

He didn’t trust himself to look at her again.

Because he knew—

one look,

one step back,

and he would lose everything he was trying to protect.

So he did the only thing that made sense in the chaos of his mind.

He walked straight into the bathroom.

Locked the door.

Engaged the auto-lock.

Ensuring that no matter what—

no matter how loud his body screamed,

no matter how fiercely the drug burned through him—

he could not open it from inside.

Cold water thundered down moments later, drowning out his ragged breathing.

And outside, Akshita’s breath was still uneven as she slid down against the door, the heat crawling beneath her skin like something alive.

Her vision swam.

Her limbs felt heavy—wrong.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, forcing herself to breathe.

Get it together. Just breathe.

Then—

The sound.

A soft click.

The door opened.

Akshita’s head snapped up instantly.

“Who are you?” she demanded, pushing herself to her feet despite the dizziness, adrenaline cutting through the haze. “Get out—”

She didn’t get to finish.

A sharp sting pierced her arm.

She gasped, looking down just in time to see a syringe being pulled back.

“No—” she tried, stumbling backward.

The room tilted violently.

Her knees buckled, but strong hands caught her before she could fall.

The figure was blurred, features indistinct—but the silhouette was unmistakable.

A woman.

Akshita struggled, panic clawing through her chest. “Let go of me!” she cried, grabbing at the woman’s wrists, nails digging in weakly. “What did you give me?”

The woman didn’t answer.

Her grip was iron.

Practiced.

Another figure moved in the shadows—silent, efficient. Akshita barely registered him until—

The bathroom door.

The auto-lock disengaging.

A mechanical click echoed through the room like a gunshot.

“No,” Akshita whispered, terror flooding her veins. “Rayan—!”

From inside the bathroom, a sound tore through the walls.

A crash.

Then his voice.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

“Akshita!” Rayan roared, pounding against the door as it slid open from the outside. “Don’t touch her—!”

His scream fractured into something feral.

She couldn’t see him—but she could hear him.

Fighting.

Struggling.

The sound of bodies colliding.

A strangled shout as someone restrained him.

Akshita tried to move toward the noise—but her legs failed her.

The woman forced her back onto the bed.

Hands moved fast, clinical, stripping away fabric with brutal efficiency—not desire, not intimacy—only control. Someone draped a sheet over her afterward, as if modesty could undo what had just been violated.

Akshita sobbed weakly, the drug pulling her under despite her resistance.

“Rayan…” she whispered, tears sliding into her hair. “Blue eyes…”

Her vision darkened.

The room blurred.

The voices faded.

But just before consciousness slipped away—

She felt weight beside her.

A body collapsing onto the mattress.

Warm.

Familiar.

Her fingers twitched, barely able to move.

She turned her head weakly, lips trembling.

“Blue eyes…” she breathed, pain and relief tangled together as darkness swallowed her whole.

Flashback ends.

The room stayed frozen long after Akshita’s voice fell silent.

No one spoke.

No one even seemed to breathe properly.

Reva was crying openly now, shoulders shaking as she stared at Akshita like she was seeing her for the first time—really seeing her. Shivangi stood rooted to the spot, her face drained of color, every sharp calculation she had made that night collapsing into ash.

And Avinash—

Avinash looked like a man who had been gutted alive.

His mind replayed everything with merciless clarity. Rayan standing there, bruised, shaking, barely holding himself together. Rayan saying, again and again, I didn’t touch her. I swear I didn’t. Rayan begging them to believe him even when he himself couldn’t remember everything.

And him.

Him calling his best friend a rapist.

The word echoed inside his skull like a gunshot that never stopped ringing.

“I—” Avinash tried to speak, but his voice broke completely. He dropped back onto the floor, hands digging into his hair as if he could tear the memory out by force. “I called him that,” he whispered hoarsely. “I called him a fucking rapist.”

That hurt worse than any accusation ever could have.

Avinash shook his head violently, tears spilling down his face. “I knew him,” he choked. “I knew him better than anyone. Even if the situation looked like that—even if the whole world was screaming otherwise—I should have known he could never—never—”

Reva covered her face, sobbing. “Where is he?” she whispered. “Where did he go?”

No one had an answer.

Because at that very moment—

Rayan was walking.

The road stretched endlessly beneath his feet, rough gravel and broken stone biting into his skin with every step. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t slow down. Pain had become irrelevant—something distant, unimportant.

He wore no shoes.

Just a thin, rain-soaked shirt clinging to his body and a pair of dark pants streaked with dirt and blood.

He didn’t know where he was going.

He only knew he couldn’t stay.

The sky cracked open above him.

Rain poured down suddenly, violently, as if the world itself had finally decided to mourn with him. Cold drops soaked his hair, his face, his clothes, blurring the line between rainwater and tears.

Rayan laughed weakly under his breath—broken, soundless.

Even the universe knows, he thought dimly.

Blood seeped steadily through the fabric of his white shirt, blooming red across his chest and side where glass and fists had torn into him earlier. The rain tried to wash it away, but it only spread the color further, turning him into a moving wound against the darkness.

He kept walking.

Head down.

Empty.

A car slowed.

Headlights cut through the rain, harsh and blinding. The vehicle came to a stop directly in front of him, tires hissing against wet asphalt.

Rayan lifted his head slowly, irritation flickering faintly—then dying instantly.

Shock slammed into him.

His breath hitched.

“…You?” he rasped, disbelief written into every line of his face.

For a long moment, Rayan simply stood there in the middle of the road, rain running down his lashes, blood and water mixing as if his body could no longer tell the difference between injury and grief.

The headlights burned into his vision, forcing him to squint as the driver’s door opened.

A man stepped out.

He studied Rayan—not with pity, not with cruelty—but with something far more unsettling.

Recognition.

Possession.

Calculation.

“Get in, Rayan Marco De Luca,” the man said calmly, his voice smooth, assured—like someone who had been waiting far longer than this moment. “I am here to take you… after all.”

Rayan let out a broken laugh, hollow and sharp, dragged from a chest that had already been carved open too many times tonight. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The man tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Rayan’s face. “You already are.”

Rayan swayed. Exhaustion finally claimed what pain had not. His knees buckled—but before he could fall, strong hands caught him, firm and unyielding, forcing him upright.

The grip wasn’t careless.

It wasn’t cruel.

It was… steady.

The car door opened again.

Warmth spilled out. Leather. Clean air. Order.

Rayan hesitated for half a second, rain streaming down his face, blue eyes dim but still burning with defiance.

Then he stepped forward.

And got in.

The door shut with a final, sealing click.

The car disappeared into the rain.

Two hours later

Rajvansh Mansion

The mansion felt like it was slowly tearing itself apart.

Avinash paced like a man possessed, hands dragging through his hair again and again, his shirt creased, his eyes wild and red-rimmed. Every unanswered call felt like another nail hammered into his chest.

“Pick up,” he rasped, staring at Rayan’s contact like it might suddenly bleed. “Just once. Scream at me. Hit me. Do anything—just pick up.”

Nothing.

Shivangi stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, already knowing how every call would end before it did. Her mind worked relentlessly—networks, enemies, patterns—but for the first time in years, strategy felt useless against the silence.

“He wouldn’t disappear like this,” Avinash said suddenly, stopping in front of her. “He wouldn’t just walk away.”

“No,” Shivangi replied quietly. “He wouldn’t.”

That was what terrified her.

Ruhi had already left—guilt choking her too tightly to stay. Upstairs, Reva refused to leave Akshita’s side, panic returning every time Akshita’s breathing hitched or her fingers curled into the sheets.

Downstairs, the air felt electrically charged.

Then—

Buzz.

Shivangi’s phone vibrated in her hand.

Unknown number.

A single video file.

Her stomach dropped.

Avinash saw her face drain of color instantly. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, already opening it—because whatever it was, it was worse than not knowing.

The screen flickered.

The video loaded.

And reality shattered.

Rayan was tied to a chair.

His head hung forward, chin resting against his chest, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. His white shirt was no longer white—deep crimson soaked through the fabric, dripping steadily onto the floor beneath him.

Avinash made a sound that wasn’t a word.

“No…”

The camera shifted.

A young woman stepped into frame.

Beautiful.

Smiling.

Unhinged.

“I have to say,” she purred, circling him slowly, “Rayan Marco De Luca is even more devastating in person. So seductive. Don’t you think?”

Her fingers brushed his chest.

Rayan stirred, groaning weakly as his head lifted. His eyes were unfocused but burning, his body straining instinctively against the restraints. “Don’t touch me,” he rasped, voice torn raw. “You bitch—”

The slap echoed.

Sharp.

Cruel.

His head snapped to the side.

“Oh no, no,” the woman crooned, gripping his jaw and forcing him to face her. “Italian prince… you don’t speak like that to your master.”

Avinash collapsed to his knees.

Shivangi couldn’t look away.

“You are mine now,” the woman whispered, obsession blazing in her eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve loved you. Watched you. Wanted you.” Her smile twisted into something ugly. “You are mine… only mine to love—”

Her hand moved toward his shirt.

“And mine to ruin.”

The video cut.

The screen went black.

Avinash screamed.

A raw, animal sound ripped from his chest as he slammed his fist into the floor again and again, sobbing openly. “I did this,” he choked. “I drove him away—”

Shivangi’s hands trembled—but her eyes were ice.

“No,” she said coldly. “You didn’t take him.”

She lifted her phone, already dialing, her voice deadly calm. “But whoever sent this just exposed themselves.”