The tall windows of the office were shut tight, shutting out the world’s noise. Inside, the room was grand but heavy, the kind of place that demanded silence. A long mahogany desk, files stacked, guns hidden in plain sight.

And behind it sat him.

Abhimanyu Singh Rathore.

The undefeated mafia king. The name people whispered with fear, the man politicians bowed to, and enemies begged mercy from.

Yet right now, the dark ruler of the city was… lost inside a book. A crime mystery novel, the pages held between his strong hands, his jaw tight as his eyes followed each word.

The door burst open without warning. A hand snatched the book away.

“Unbelievable!”

Abhimanyu’s head rose slowly, his eyes like a blade. But the man standing before him didn’t flinch, because it was Siddhartha Kumar, his secretary, his shadow, and his only real friend.

Siddhartha dangled the book like a prize. His tone was dramatic, mocking.

“The great Abhimanyu Singh Rathore. Ruler of crime, king of politics, the man everyone fears, caught red-handed reading… this? And not just any book. A book by your favourite author.”

Abhimanyu’s lips curved, not in amusement, but in a warning smirk. His voice was low, smooth, dangerous.

“So what? I like this book.”

Siddhartha’s grin widened. “The books… or the Author? I am sure she is gonna be your next obsession.”

The air grew colder. Abhimanyu leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his stare sharp enough to cut. “You know very well, Siddhartha, I don’t like. I don’t love. Those things don’t exist for me.” His eyes narrowed. “And tell me… how do you know the author is she? The identity has never been revealed.”

Siddhartha faltered for a moment, then shrugged quickly. “I don’t know, alright? I just think.” He tossed the book back onto the desk and changed the subject before Abhimanyu could press more. “Anyway, leave your mystery queen aside for now. You’ve got business tonight. Club Indigo. That dealer is acting too bold, making too many problems.”

Abhimanyu’s eyes hardened, but he stayed calm. “Hmm… let’s see how much of a problem he can actually cause.” He stood, walking towards his Best Friend “Prepare everything for tonight.”

Then, with a sudden move, he reached out and snatched the book back from Siddhartha’s hand. His smirk returned, sharper now. “And return my book. No one touches it but me.”

Siddhartha shook his head with a half-laugh. “Obsessed.”

Abhimanyu ignored him. Instead, his fingers pressed against a carved lion on the edge of his desk. A soft click echoed in the silent room.

One side of the wall slid open.

Siddhartha’s grin faded, his eyes widening for the hundredth time at the sight. A hidden library stretched behind the wall, rows upon rows of shelves, filled only with one kind of book. The same style. The same name on every spine.

Author Shadow.

It was an obsession, a secret even his closest allies didn’t fully understand. Abhimanyu walked inside slowly, his hand trailing along the books like they were more precious than gold or blood. His eyes held something different now not softness, not love, but something darker.

Siddhartha broke the silence. “One day, I’ll find out who this Shadow really is.”

Abhimanyu turned, his gaze cold again. “Don’t.”

And with that, the wall closed shut. The library disappeared, like it had never existed.

At Night

Club Indigo

The neon lights outside glared against the dark streets, music pulsing through the ground. Inside, the air was heavy with perfume and liquor.

Laughter, chatter, and the sound of glasses clinking filled the place, until the doors opened.

Every sound died.

Heads turned. Men froze mid-drink. Dancers stilled on the floor.

Because he had arrived.

Abhimanyu Singh Rathore walked in, his black suit cutting through the darkness, his presence more dangerous than any weapon. Behind him, Siddhartha followed, scanning the room with sharp eyes.

The devil himself had entered.

And everyone in Club Indigo knew, tonight, someone’s life would change forever.

Just then a sharp, echoing slap rang out, making heads whip towards the direction of the sound.

Near the corner of the bar, a man stumbled back, clutching his cheek. And standing before him, fury blazing in every line of her face, was a woman.

Her hand struck again, harder this time. The sound cut through the air like thunder. Gasps spread across the room as she grabbed a wine bottle from the table, raising it high, ready to smash it over his head.

“Ishika, stop!”

Another woman rushed forward, pulling her back with both hands. Her voice trembled with panic. “Stop! You’ll kill him! I should never have forced you to come here, let’s just go!”

The man she had struck cowered, blood trickling from his lip. The crowd stayed frozen, too afraid to move, too shocked to react.

Because they all knew.

The devil himself, Abhimanyu Singh Rathore, was here.

Every single person had gone still when he walked in. Every voice had died. Every pair of eyes had lowered in fear.

Everyone except her.

She hadn’t even noticed him.

The woman, Ishika, stood there, with fire in her eyes, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. She looked like she belonged to no rules, no fear, no man’s world.

And that was what caught him.

Abhimanyu’s gaze locked on hers, and the world seemed to still for him, too. For the first time in years, something shifted inside his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away.

That girl… whoever she was… he needed her.

Not wanted. Needed.

The dealer he had come to crush, the business he had to handle, the hundreds of eyes watching, none of it mattered.

Only Ishika did.

Siddhartha leaned in, his voice low but tense. “Abhimanyu… what are you looking at? We need to go”

Abhimanyu’s lips barely moved, but his voice was dark, almost hungry as he shook his head.

“Her. Collect all her information.”

Siddhartha gaped like a fish but didn't say anything.

The bottle slipped from Ishika’s hand, clattering onto the marble floor with a sharp crack. The sound echoed through the frozen club.

And then, she turned.

Every pair of eyes followed her. Every breath in the room stalled. Because she wasn’t just turning… she was walking straight toward him.

Her steps were steady, unbothered, her chin high. She didn’t even glance at the man everyone feared, didn’t bow her head, didn’t hesitate. She simply passed him, brushing so close their worlds almost collided, yet she treated him like he was invisible.

The crowd gasped silently. No one had ever ignored Abhimanyu Singh Rathore.

But she did.

Her friend rushed after her, voice breaking as they left the door behind. “I’m sorry, Ishika. I didn’t know he touched you.”

The words struck like a blade.

Abhimanyu stilled. The sharp calm in his eyes darkened into something lethal. His jaw flexed once before he spoke, voice so low it crawled across the room.

“Take him.”

His men moved instantly, dragging the man up from the floor as he screamed, pleading. The crowd shrank back in terror.

Beside him, Siddhartha’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? You don’t even know her- ”

Abhimanyu cut him off, gaze still fixed on the doors Ishika had just walked through. His voice was ice, but his words burned. “She is your sister-in-law.”

Siddhartha choked. “What—”

“Tomorrow,” Abhimanyu continued, his tone absolute, final, dangerous. “We go with a marriage proposal.”

And just like that, he turned and strode out of Club Indigo, his aura making the room suffocate with silence. His last words were a dagger thrown carelessly over his shoulder, “Kill that dealer. I am not in the mood to discuss anything anymore.

The car door shut with a heavy thud. The night outside still pulsed with music, but inside the sleek black vehicle, there was only silence.

Siddhartha sat rigid on the driver seat, his mind racing. His best friend, the devil himself, had just declared a stranger his future wife, without knowing her name, her past, or even her truth.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Are you insane?” His voice cracked, half-shocked, half-panicked. “You don’t even know who she is! What if she’s trouble? What if she’s already—”

“Already what?” Abhimanyu’s voice was calm, steady, but it carried a blade’s edge. His eyes stayed on the road ahead.

Siddhartha said desperate. “Already married? Or in love ”

Abhimanyu didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened, and then he spoke with terrifying ease. “Then we kill her husband. Or her lover. And make her mine.”

Siddhartha blinked, stunned. “Abhi, what the hell—”

“I mean it,” Abhimanyu cut him off, voice low, dangerous. “Anyone in my way dies.”

The words hung heavy between them. Siddhartha shifted, uneasy, but his curiosity pushed him further. “And if… she already has a child?”

For a moment, silence. Abhimanyu’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glittering with a madness Siddhartha had seen too many times before. “That’s good,” he said coolly. “I got a kid too.”

Siddhartha froze, then threw his hands up. “God, Abhi! You’ve never said this about anyone. Ever. And suddenly, this?”

Abhimanyu’s jaw tightened, but his tone didn’t waver. “I don’t care who she is. I don’t care what her past is. She’s mine now.”

Siddhartha stared at him, stunned into silence for a long moment. Then he gave a hollow laugh. “You’re serious. You’re actually serious.”

Abhimanyu’s eyes flicked toward him briefly, then back to the road. His lips curved, not in amusement, but in a chilling certainty. “I don’t joke, Siddhartha. Not about this. Tomorrow, we go to her house. With a proposal.”

Siddhartha dragged a hand through his hair, trying to process. “Proposal? Proposal? Abhi, people like us... We don't make proposals, we get what we want.”

Abhimanyu’s smirk returned, darker this time. “Exactly. And when I say ‘proposal,’ what I mean is, there won’t be a choice.”

Silence thickened in the car again. Siddhartha looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in years, he was unnerved. His friend, the man he had followed through blood and fire, had always been ruthless. But this… this was obsession.

“Abhi,” Siddhartha said slowly, carefully, “this isn’t business. This is personal. That girl… Ishika. She could be dangerous.” Siddhartha hoped his best friend would not destroy the girl's life.

For the first time that night, Abhimanyu’s voice softened, low, almost a whisper, but still dark. “She is dangerous. And that’s exactly why she’ll be mine.”

Siddhartha leaned back against the seat, still shaken.