#1st Book in 'Tangled Series.'
Revenge and Love, I was tangled between both of these. Once I loved but that love took everything from me, it destroyed me inside out. At that time, Revenge was my only hope. I decided Vengeance would be my endgame. I...
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Our lives fell apart after Riti was shot eight months ago.
Riti's anger and frustration, which sometimes feel like hatred, are understandable. I live in a constant state of fear, terrified of losing her forever. The threats I received weren't empty words; they were a chilling promise. "Red fucking Marvel," the name sends shivers down my spine, because this isn't just some vague threat - he wants Riti, and I'll do anything to keep her safe.
Every aspect of our life has been reshaped by this terror. Riti can't go anywhere alone, not even to Mehra Mansion or her own villa. I accompany her when I can, and when I can't, my guards escort her. Her workday is meticulously structured: she's at her office by a specific time, and she's back home at 7pm sharp. It's an order I gave her driver, and my guards ensure it's followed. She submits to these restrictions, even though they clearly make her unhappy.
I know it's too much for her, but the thought of losing her forever takes my breath away. I would do whatever it takes, even become the villain if necessary, to keep her safe, even if it means she ends up hating me. She is my entire world, and I would do anything to safeguard it.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself before twisting the knob and stepping into our room. Now that we had moved back to our family mansion, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It had become clear that putting Riti in the penthouse would only amplify her mental stress, and I believed that living together with family would provide a more supportive environment. It was a decision made out of love and concern, and I hoped it would ease her burdens.
As I entered the room, I immediately noticed Riti sitting on the edge of the bed. She is wearing a white nightgown. She was hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard with an intensity that spoke volumes of her frustration. The energy in the room felt charged; it was evident she was angry. The air was thick with tension, a palpable weight that settled over us both. I swallowed hard, steeling myself to address the situation.
