✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[ 𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 1 ]
Because this is where love fades and hate resides and intensifies, broken hearts produce the most tragic stories.
Their treachery is told through their bleeding hearts: their unrequited love was never reciprocated. The...
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The moment my shoulder slammed into the door, forcing it open, the expensive, climate-controlled bubble of my business world shattered. The putrid smell of stale alcohol and desperation hit me first. Then, the scene.
She was on the floor, not standing defiantly, but crumpled and small, a dark silhouette against scattered, broken glass. Her feet and palms were slick with blood. Above her, looming, was a predator in a cheap suit, his hand outstretched, and his gaze feral.
Motherfucker has a death wish today.
The rage that surged through me wasn't cold, calculated anger; it was pure, untamed, volcanic fury—the kind that makes you forget your own name. It was the same helplessness I'd felt years ago, but this time, I wasn't watching it happen from afar. I was here.
"Dare to touch her, and your body won't be found by anyone!" I didn't recognize my own voice—it was a deep, visceral roar that stripped the drunk bravado from every man in the room.
The silence that followed was absolute. All heads snapped toward me. Surprise, shock, and then a creeping, paralyzing fear—that was the sequence I saw on their faces.
My eyes found Vijay Sharma. His mouth was agape, the surprise on his face not for Ada, but for my unexpected, violent presence. That monster. He was never a father to her; he was a silent, complicit villain.
I stared down the man whose hand was inches from Ada's skin. My sharp intake of breath was the only sound. I took a deliberate step forward, and the collective group of men—old, young, influential, drunk—flinched back, stumbling over furniture. Those sitting jerked upright. They were animals, easily dominated by a greater threat.
Knight and the team of security I had ordered to shadow me were quick to flood the entrance, a wall of disciplined silence behind me. I wouldn't leave anyone. Every single one of these motherfuckers would rot in a hell I personally designed.
But then my eyes fell completely on her. Ada.
Her face was pale, her eyes tightly closed, the dark lashes stark against her bruised skin. Finger marks were clearly visible on her swollen cheeks. The panic that surged through me was terrifyingly familiar—it was the night with Siya flashing in front of my eyes. That night, I hadn't been fast enough. I had failed. But today? Today, the universe has given me a second chance.
