𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐓- 𝒜 𝓉𝒶𝓁ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ, 𝒫ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅ℴ𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓈

||𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖||

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Epilogue - 1 is available on scroll stack ✨

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Vikram sat in his dimly lit room, a glass of alcohol in his hand, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling within. He was deep in thought.This particular mansion was one of many he owned, but it was special- hidden away from prying eyes, and close to the dungeon where the Singhanias were held captive.

As Vikram lifted the glass to his lips, about to savor the burning comfort of the alcohol, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. His brows furrowed in irritation. He wasn't expecting anyone. His grip tightened around the glass, his muscles tensing as he prepared for an unwelcome encounter. When the door creaked open, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze snapped to the figure entering the room.

It was Anamika Singh Rajput, his so-called wife, the woman he had forced into a marriage that served only his interests. Her entrance was calm, deliberate, as if she had every right to be there. This only served to fuel his anger.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" Vikram spat, his voice a harsh, venomous hiss. He glared at her, expecting to see her flinch, to show some sign of fear. But Anamika remained unaffected.

"I came here to give you a suggestion," she replied, her tone as flat as her expression.

Vikram's irritation turned to fury. "I don't want your suggestions! Just get the hell out of the room!" he snapped, slamming the glass down on the table with a loud thud, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to spilling.

Anamika's eyes flashed briefly, but she kept her composure. "Take her to Shashvat Singhania," she said, her words precise and measured.

For a moment, Vikram's mind went blank. Then, the meaning of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His expression twisted with rage as he shot up from his chair, his hand moving to her throat in one swift motion.

"What the hell are you saying?!" Vikram roared, his fingers tightening around her neck. Anamika gasped, her hands instinctively clawing at his, trying to pry them loose, but his grip was strong. Her vision began to blur, and she realized with a flash of panic that she was losing the fight for air. Summoning all her strength, she shoved him hard in the chest.

Vikram stumbled back, and Anamika collapsed to the floor, coughing violently as she struggled to regain her breath. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms as she fought to suppress the fury that threatened to boil over.

"Shashvat Singhania took what was yours," Anamika continued, her voice hoarse but steady. "Show him that Dhriti is now your possession. He's already in your grasp-this is your chance to show her who is stronger, who is more powerful."

Vikram's rage slowly morphed into something darker, more calculated. A smirk curled at the corners of his mouth as her words sank in. He could already picture Shashvat's despair, the look of defeat on his face when he realized that Dhriti was no longer his.

"I must say, your suggestion is... interesting," Vikram said, his smirk widening. "It will be fun to see Shashvat Singhania's dejected face."

But his suspicion soon returned, and he eyed Anamika with a mix of curiosity and distrust. "But why are you suggesting this to me? Why are you helping me? Suddenly feeling some love for me?" he added with a mocking chuckle.

Anamika's eyes narrowed into slits of pure hatred. "Not for you," she snapped. "If you get Dhriti, my sister and I will finally be free from your clutches."