"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The music in the nightclub didn't stop. But everything else did.
People froze mid-dance. Conversations died out. Heads turned. Eyes widened. And at the center of it all-Kiara Gupta was throwing a tantrum like the entire place was her personal living room.
"Gimme my fucking wine!" she screamed at the bartender, slamming her palms against the counter.
The bartender didn't even flinch. He looked bored. "You're banned. Come back when you clear your dues."
"Excuse me?!"
A hush fell. Everyone knew what came next. Sultan Khan had issued strict orders. No drinks, no entry, no mercy-for Kiara. And if she dared make a scene...
Her mistake was thinking it wouldn't apply to her. Her bigger mistake was smashing a glass of scotch into the bartender's face.
Blood trickled down his cheek.
The bartender wiped it with the back of his hand... and smiled.
That smile was the last thing Kiara remembered before she was yanked up by the neck, slammed against a wall, and dragged-heels screeching-down to the basement.
The **Punishment Cell**.
She landed hard in the corner, chained like a feral dog. Her voice was still screeching, vulgar and unafraid.
"I swear on God I'll kill you all! Let me go, you bastards!"
But no one listened. Around her, bloodied faces looked on in silence-other debtors who hadn't paid up. One man's jaw was dislocated. Another's nose hung off his face. Kiara didn't care.
She just kept screaming.
-
Upstairs, Sultan wasn't even present. Not yet.
He was busy reviewing Zara and Baseer's engagement preparations. Fabric swatches. Guest lists. Imported champagne. Ritual arrangements.
Everything had to be *perfect.*
But the house wasn't quiet.
Not when **Jubaida Begum**-his grandmother-had locked herself inside her room, refusing food, water, or any kind of peace.
"I'm not attending this marriage," she declared from behind the door. "You'll either see me dead or not at all."
Sultan didn't even look up. "She's bluffing."
"Sultan..." his mother, Shama, hesitated. "Don't you think this is rushing?"
"Ammi," he said sharply, "Are you scared because of her threats? Or because she might actually do it?"
Shama frowned. "She's still your elder."
"My elder?" he scoffed. "That woman who treated you like dirt when Abbu was broke? Who tortured you, starved you, insulted you? Now she's preaching family values?"
