Back at the restaurant, the silence after the video ended was unbearable. Ishika sat frozen, her nails digging into her palms, while Anya held her hand tightly as if trying to anchor her in place.

Mahi was the first to move. Her face was pale but her eyes blazed with fury. "This-this is enough. I'm taking this to the police. They'll have to act after seeing this. They can't ignore it!"

She grabbed the laptop, ready to rip it from the table, but a voice stopped her.

"Mahi beta." One of the senior staff, a man who had been with their family for years, stepped forward hesitantly. His voice trembled with fear. "I... I can talk to my brother. He works in the police. But..." He looked down, as if ashamed. "I fear even he won't be able to register the case. Rathore sahab's name... it closes every door before it can even open."

Mahi's breath hitched. Her grip on the laptop tightened. "So what uncle, you're saying we should just do nothing? After what he did to Didi? To Maa, to Papa?!"

"I'm not saying that beta," the man whispered. "I'm saying... be careful. For every step you take, he will take ten more. And they will crush more than just you."

"I don't care!" Mahi shouted, tears blurring her vision. "He can't get away with this. He can't-"

"I won't allow it." The words cut through the room, sharp and cold. Ishika's voice.

Everyone turned to her. Her face was pale, her lips trembling, but her eyes were fierce.

"I know him," she whispered, her voice low but steady, she could see the madness in his eyes. "If we go to the police, he won't just silence the case. He'll destroy us. He'll kill those who help us. Or worse, he'll make them live and suffer for daring to try."

Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, the weight of her helplessness pressing down like chains.

"No police," she said again, firmer this time.

Mahi shook her head violently. "Then what, Didi? What are we supposed to do? Just let him-" Her voice cracked as tears spilled over. "Just let him own you like... like property?"

Ishika didn't answer. She couldn't.

Because deep down, she feared that's exactly what Abhimanyu had already done.

Just then, Anya's sharp cry cut through the silence. "Ishika!"

Everyone's head snapped toward her. She was staring at the television mounted on the wall, her face pale, her body trembling.

The screen blared breaking news.

"A man was found dead outside Club Indigo tonight. Authorities describe the scene as brutal. His right hand was severed, and a note was left beside the body."

The camera zoomed in, the grainy footage enough to send a chill down every spine. Blood pooled on the pavement, and beside it, in cruel bold letters, the note was shown:

"Whoever dares to touch my love, is not allowed to love anymore."

Gasps erupted in the room. Ishika's breath hitched violently, her throat tightening as though invisible hands were strangling her.

Anya's lips quivered. Her voice came out broken, barely above a whisper. "That man... that's him."

Everyone stared at her.

Anya's hands shook as she gripped the edge of the table. "The one who harassed Ishika yesterday near the club. She slapped him, shouted at him. We ran away together."

Her words fell heavy in the suffocating silence.

The truth cracked open like lightning-terrible, undeniable. It wasn't just coincidence. It wasn't random. It was deliberate. A message.

Ishika's mother pressed her hands to her mouth, sobs escaping as she realized the truth. Her father slumped back in his chair, his face ashen, broken.

Mahi staggered a step back, her blood running cold. Her mind replayed every second of the video, every threat, every word Abhimanyu had uttered.

"He killed him..." she whispered, horror lacing each syllable. "He actually killed him."

Her eyes snapped to her sister, wide and trembling. "Didi... you were right. We can't fight him. No one can fight him."

Tears finally slipped from Ishika's eyes, but not from weakness-from fury. From helpless, consuming rage. Her hands shook violently, nails digging into her skin, as the chains around her tightened.

Anya, her face streaked with tears, clutched Ishika's arm. "He's not a man, Ishika. He's... a monster."

For a long moment, no one spoke. The television droned on with updates, reporters throwing around words like "mafia-style killing," "brutality," "powerful influence." But inside the restaurant, silence screamed louder than any voice.

Finally, Ishika's father spoke, his voice hollow, defeated. "He's untouchable."

The words hit like a death sentence.

And in that moment, every soul in the room realized the same truth: Abhimanyu Singh Rathore wasn't just a man who wanted Ishika. He was an empire, and Ishika was now its prisoner.

After Five Days

It was today-today they had been brought into Abhimanyu Singh Rathore's world of power and fear.

The grand doors opened, revealing the glittering interior. Chandeliers cast golden light across marble floors, but the shine felt cold, suffocating. They were not entering a home. They were entering a prison.

And yet, Ishika's mind wasn't here. It was still trapped in the memory of a few hours ago-

Flashback

Few Hours Ago

"I won't go anywhere with you," Ishika had said, her voice shaking but defiant. "Not now. Not ever."

The restaurant had fallen silent. Abhimanyu stood only a few feet away, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, he didn't speak. Then, he looked at his men "Bring him forward."

A young employee was dragged out from the corner, terrified and confused. Ishika's heart lurched.

Abhimanyu pulled a gun from his jacket, his expression calm, almost gentle. "You see, love, I don't like refusal."

He pointed the gun at the man's chest.

Ishika's scream tore through the room. "No! Stop! Please!"

Her parents cried out, Mahi tried to rush forward, but the guards held everyone down.

The gunshot rang out.

The employee crumpled to the floor, clutching his chest, then froze. Slowly, his trembling hands realized there was no wound, no blood. The bullet had been fake.

Abhimanyu crouched before Ishika, lifting her chin with icy fingers. His voice was low, soft, but it sliced through her like glass.

"This time, a fake bullet," he whispered. "Next time... I won't be so merciful. Defy me again, and I will paint your world in blood. Your parents. Your sister. Your little friend clinging to your side. Everyone." His eyes darkened with dangerous promise. "And you will watch every second."

"Take them all," Abhimanyu ordered coldly. "To the palace."

But then he paused. His gaze returned to Ishika.

She shook her head violently, backing away. "Don't touch me!" she hissed, her fists rising.

Abhimanyu stepped closer, unhurried, until her back hit the wall. In one swift motion, he bent down and lifted her off the floor, his hands holding only the fabric of her clothes, careful not to brush her skin.

Ishika thrashed in his grip, her fists pounding against his chest, her legs kicking, her nails clawing desperately at his sleeve. "Put me down! I hate you!"

Her punches landed again and again, but it was like striking stone. Abhimanyu didn't flinch. His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable, his grip unyielding.

To her, he felt inhumanly strong. To him, her fury was only... fascinating.

Without a word, he turned and walked out of the restaurant, carrying her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Behind them, the guards dragged her screaming family and Anya. He knew, she would not want to leave her family and Best Friend here.

Present

The flash of that gun, the echo of that shot, the feel of his grip still rang in Ishika's body as she stood in the Rathore Palace's drawing room. Her mother clutched her hand tightly, Mahi glared with tear-filled fury, her father's silence was heavier than words, and Anya's breath trembled against her shoulder.

Then he entered.

Abhimanyu Singh Rathore.

His steps were calm, his suit pristine, his presence filling every corner of the massive hall. He looked at Ishika as though she were already his, as though the family sitting before him was nothing more than collateral.

"Welcome to your new home," he said smoothly, his eyes locked on hers.

Mahi spat, her voice trembling but fierce. "This isn't a home. It's a prison."

Abhimanyu's lips curved. "Then call it what you like, little one. But remember this..... " his gaze shifted back to Ishika, dangerous, unblinking "there is no leaving love."

The silence that followed was suffocating as everyone looked at him with hatred.