Author's POV :
Two years had passed since the fateful night when she had turned the tables on Akarsh and Vikram. The world had moved on, the scandal had become old news, and she had built an empire that dwarfed even their wildest dreams. And now, as she stood at the altar, dressed in a stunning crimson lehenga that sparkled like the embers of a dying fire, she knew that she had truly conquered the darkness.
Her groom, Amogh Ranawat, stood before her, his eyes filled with love and admiration. He had been her rock through the storm, her confidant and her champion. His proposal had come as a surprise, a sweet reminder that love could still bloom amidst the ruins of betrayal. The media had gone crazy with speculation, their whispers filling the air like a cacophony of confused bees. They had never seen it coming, never imagined that the Iron Lady of Industry would marry a man like him.
But Amogh was not like the others. He didn't see her as a prize to be won, or a stepping stone to greater power. He saw her as a partner, an equal whose strength and intelligence he revered. And as they exchanged vows, their hearts beating in unison, she knew that she had found something real, something that could withstand the tempests of their tumultuous lives.
The wedding was a grand affair, the likes of which the city had never seen before. The air was thick with the scent of roses and jasmine, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the opulent ballroom. Guests whispered in hushed tones, their eyes wide with wonder as they watched the woman who had once been the pawn become the queen.
The media had indeed gone crazy. They had never seen it coming, had never imagined that the Iron Lady would tie the knot with a man like Amogh Ranawat. He was a mystery to them, a businessman who had emerged from the shadows to stand by her side. They had tried to dig up dirt, to find some scandal that would tarnish her gleaming armor, but there was none to be found. He was the silent force behind her, the wind beneath her wings, and she had chosen him.
On her wedding day, the air was electric with excitement and speculation. The paparazzi camped outside the opulent venue, their cameras poised to capture every moment of the fairytale that was unfolding. They whispered about the jewels adorning her neck, the designer of her crimson lehenga, but they knew that the real story was the man who sat waiting for her at the altar.
As the priest chanted the ancient mantras, binding their souls together, Ashritha felt a strange sensation. A cold breeze seemed to sweep through the room, sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes searched the crowd, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a ghostly figure in the shadows. But when she blinked, it was gone.
The reception was a whirlwind of congratulations and well-wishers. As the night grew darker, she found a quiet corner, her thoughts racing. She pulled out her phone, checking for any missed messages. There it was, a notification from an unknown number. Her heart skipped a beat as she clicked it open.
"The game isn't over, my dear. Enjoy your new toy, but remember, you still belong to me." The message was signed with a simple 'V'. It had to be him. Despite her anger and betrayal, she couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement. The game was on again, and she was ready to play.
Her honeymoon with Amogh was filled with love and laughter, but in the quiet moments, her thoughts would drift to the cryptic message. Was it a declaration of war or a desperate plea for her heart? She didn't know, but she knew she had to be prepared. As they soaked up the sun on the pristine beaches of the Maldives, she strategized, her mind racing with possibilities.
Their days were filled with romance and adventure, but her nights were spent researching, digging into the depths of the internet for any trace of Vikram. She had to know what he was planning, had to be ready for whatever he had in store. Amogh noticed her restlessness but said nothing, trusting her implicitly.
The message had come from an untraceable burner phone, but she knew it was him. The words, the tone, it was all so Vikram. He was a master of the game, always one step ahead. But this time, she would not be his pawn. This time, she would be the one to make the moves.
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The End
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