TARA: CORRUPT ME

Destiny Begins

CORRUPT ME

It wasn't a request.
It never was — not when it came from Zade Rahim.

"Come outside," he had said.
Calm. Cold. Commanding. The kind of voice that didn't belong to a man — it belonged to power.

It didn't matter that it was midnight.
It didn't matter that rain lashed against her window.
It didn't even matter that her rishta meeting was happening downstairs.

Zade Rahim never cared about time, tradition, or consequence.

From her window, Tara Advani gripped the curtain, her heart hammering as her eyes found the black car parked outside her home. Its engine purred, low and predatory — like him.

He had come again.

"Why?" she whispered, though she already knew.

The phone buzzed in her trembling hand. His voice — dark, deep, and dangerous — filled her ear.
"In five minutes, you'll be outside. Or I'll walk in and take you myself. I don't care who sees — not your uncles, not your rishtedaar, not even your father."

Her pulse spiked.
"Zade, it's late. We can talk tomorrow."

He chuckled — that low, cruel sound that lived somewhere between a threat and a promise.
"You won't come on your own, will you?"

"Zade, no... please—"

The line went dead.

And just like that, he began to walk in.

Her lips parted, fury fighting the shiver crawling up her spine.
"You've lost your mind, Zade. You can't just—"

And the line went dead.

A chill ran through her.
Not of fear — of knowing he meant every word.

The iron gates of the Advani mansion creaked open like the warning growl of a beast. The guards froze. No one dared to stop him.

Inside, the air smelled of jasmine, tea, and expectations. The rishta meeting was in full swing — polite laughter, the clink of cups, the careful exchange of smiles.

Until the door opened.

Silence fell like glass shattering.

And there he was.
Zade Rahim.

All black. All arrogance. All sin.

"Salam, Saasu Maa. Salam, Sasur jee," he said smoothly, flashing that dangerous smile — the one that made people forget how to breathe.

He didn't look at anyone else. His eyes locked straight on the suitor — the man sitting across the table from Tara's father — the man who had dared to dream of her.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Every second he stared was a warning — one heartbeat away from destruction.

Then he started walking. Past the elders. Past the shocked crowd. Straight up the staircase.

"Tara!" her mother's voice broke, but Tara was already frozen, her hands trembling as the footsteps drew closer.

The door burst open.

"Zade—" she gasped, stepping back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

He looked her up and down — the silk of her lehenga, the jewelry that wasn't his gift — and his eyes darkened.

"Take one more step closer," she warned, voice shaking but fierce, "and I'll scream."

He smirked. "You think that'll stop me?"

"Try me," she hissed, chin lifted, eyes blazing.

Zade's smirk vanished. He took one step closer, then another — until the air itself trembled between them.

"I told you once," he said quietly, dangerously, "no man touches what's mine. And yet here you are — dressed up for another."

"I'm not yours, Zade," she snapped. "You can't keep barging into my life like some goddamn—"

Before she could finish, he moved.
Swift. Brutal. Absolute.

He grabbed her wrist — firm but careful — and pulled her toward him until her chest collided with his.

"Finish that sentence," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Say I'm not yours. I dare you."

"Zade, this is insane—"

"Insane?" His jaw flexed. "No, Tara. What's insane is watching another man sit in front of your parents, pretending he could ever have you."

"Let me go," she demanded.

He did the opposite. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up — effortlessly — into his arms.

"Zade!" she gasped, thrashing. "Put me down!"

"Make me," he growled, his grip unrelenting as he carried her out of the room — out of the mansion — past the stunned faces of her family.

Her father rose, shouting, "You can't take her—!"

Zade didn't even glance back. "Watch me."

The night air was thick with rain as he walked down the marble steps, her dupatta trailing like a captured flag.

"Zade, please!" she cried, her voice breaking. "You're humiliating my family!"

He looked down at her, eyes dark and unreadable.
"They humiliated themselves the second they thought someone else could have you."

The car door opened. He slid her inside, slammed it shut, and got behind the wheel.

Tara turned to him, fury and tears battling in her eyes. "You think this is love? This is obsession! You don't own me!"

His jaw tightened. The headlights flashed across his face — beautiful, dangerous, and unholy.

"I don't own you, Tara," he said softly, almost tender. "I am you."

The engine roared to life.
And the mansion — her home, her family, her world — disappeared behind them.

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Starting from 13th of October 2025