BOOK 1 - 𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.
𔓘 Can be read as a Standalone.
Yuvan Singhania was power draped in darkness-a billionaire heir with blood-stained secrets buried beneath tailored suits and ruthless...
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Yuvan's POV:
I signed the last document with a practiced stroke, closed the file, and slid it across the desk. The digital clock in the corner of my screen blinked at 6:45 p.m.
The once-busy floor outside my cabin had fallen into silence, leaving behind nothing but the muted hum of the air conditioner and the occasional flicker of headlights far below the glass walls.
I read through one final email before replying with a single line, then shut my laptop with a quiet click.
Reaching up, I slipped my glasses off and placed them neatly beside the laptop. My fingers rubbed the bridge of my nose, easing the dull ache that had settled there after hours of staring at spreadsheets, contracts, and presentations.
I leaned back into the leather chair, letting my shoulders relax, the city stretched beneath, glittering with thousands of lights.
My fingers absently tapped against the armrest.
Once.
Twice.
My eyes remained fixed on the city, yet all I could see was a woman who had somehow turned every ordinary day into absolute chaos.
The woman who rolled her eyes at me every chance she got.
Varenya. My little one. My obsession.
The girl who had ripped through my armor and left me exposed in ways no enemy ever could.
She had no idea what she did to me. The way her lashes fluttered when she looked away, the way her lips trembled when she was trying to hold her ground, the soft flush that painted her cheeks when she was caught off guard. Even the careless curses she spat under her breath felt like poetry carved just for me. She was chaos wrapped in innocence, a living contradiction that drove me insane. Fragile yet defiant. Naive yet sharp enough to wound me without even trying.
And God, I could not stop thinking about her.
Every word she spoke clung to me, haunting me long after she was gone. The way her voice sharpened with irritation, the way she once muttered through gritted teeth, "One day, I'll kill this caffeine-powered control freaky bastard with my bare hands."
And I smiled. Because if her hands were the ones to end me, I would welcome it. I would bleed for her. I would let her tear me apart and carve her name into my bones. She could be the knife, and I would be the willing victim.
She does not know it yet, but she has become my everything. The air I breathe tastes of her. The silence in the night echoes. Even the ashes on my lips carry the ghost of her name.
Varenya. My ruin. My salvation. My beautiful damnation.
The door creaked open, and I looked up to find Divya sauntering in uninvited, her blood-red lips curling into a smug smile. Divya. A name I barely tolerated and a presence I despised.
