Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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The morning light filtered through the curtains as I stood before the mirror, adjusting my tie. My thoughts were consumed by her—Nandini Verma, my Little Swan . I hadn't slept a wink last night, my mind endlessly replaying the sight of her standing in the rain. She should be here with me, by my side. Her file, sent by Rakshit, lay on my bed, waiting to be scrutinized. But for the first time, I felt no urgency to know every detail of her life. I was more interested in the mystery she embodied and the emotions she stirred within me.
I dressed meticulously, choosing a dark, tailored suit that exuded power and control. The crisp white shirt beneath contrasted sharply with the black, a visual reminder of the duality within me. I fastened the silver cufflinks, their weight reassuring, and slid on my watch, the final touch to my ensemble. The image staring back at me was one of dominance and precision, the quintessential CEO and villain. Yet, beneath that exterior, something had shifted.
Her presence, her appearance, had done something to me. She had made me forget years of brewing revenge. Now, the thought of hurting her was abhorrent. Instead, I felt a fierce need to protect her, to keep her safe from anyone who might harm her. She was like a swan—magical, with pure, innocent eyes. But those eyes held a deep sadness, especially when it rained. She didn't like the rain, perhaps because it reminded her of painful memories.
I picked up the file from the bed, tucking it under my arm as I left the room. The hallway was silent, just the way I liked it. I made my way to the dining room, where my breakfast was laid out, as always, by the staff who had already left. I didn’t enjoy having people around me, except for Rakshit. And now, it seemed, I wouldn’t mind having her around either.
Sitting at the table, I flipped open the file, scanning through the information. Her life, her achievements—it was all there, neatly documented. But it was her eyes, those hauntingly beautiful eyes, that stayed with me. That innocence was something I wanted to protect.
As I finished my breakfast, I felt a strange anticipation. The day would be filled with meetings and decisions, but all I could think about was her. What would I do when I finally met her? How would I keep her close without frightening her? These questions lingered as I stood, straightened my suit, and walked out the door.
In the back of my mind, I knew one thing for sure: Nandini Verma had become more than just a target for revenge. She was becoming an obsession, a delicate swan I was determined to protect at all costs. And soon, very soon, I would find a way to bring her into my world.
I arrived at the office, and a hush fell over the room. Everyone's eyes averted, a mix of respect and fear palpable in the air. It was almost amusing how my presence could command such silence, as if I were a devil incarnate. The fear in their eyes was satisfying in a way; being a villain had its own perks and attitude. As I walked through the lobby, employees greeted me with murmured "Good mornings." I didn't bother to respond, merely nodding in acknowledgment.
