*You do not have to read the first two books in order to understand this one* I believe true love happens only once in your life. And I'm talking about that kind of love when you love with your whole soul and with every single piece of you. You love deeply, with everything you have and everything you are. I also think that heartbreak can be caused by the person you never thought would hurt you. By the person who promised wouldn't hurt you and you believed them. But that was my mistake - for being stupid enough to believe him and trust him with my heart when deep down inside of me, I knew he was going to leave someday and take everything with him - my heart, my soul, all my pieces and my whole life. Because with every breath I take, I still do it with a memory of him. I knew he was going to go and that I wasn't going to be it for him. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. My name is Brooke Campbell. And I am going to tell you a story about my life. This is not a story about love. This is a story about heartbreak.

One moment, the air was thick with the copper tang of blood and the roar of a collapsing empire. Princess Aradhyanshi had stood her ground, twin daggers flashing, until the cold bite of steel pierced her back-a traitor's gift. She had welcomed the darkness, expecting the silence of the ancestors. Instead, she woke up gasping for air, her lungs burning not with smoke, but with the frigid water of the modern world. The transition was a blur of neon lights and sterile hospital walls. She was no longer a commander of legions- she was Aaradhya Rathore, a girl whose life had been as quiet as a whisper until she "drowned." Aradhyanshi adapted with a warrior's precision. She learned to navigate the "glass bricks" they called phones and the strange, fast-moving carriages of the city. Some memories of her past life began to fray at the edges-but her instincts remained razor-sharp. She convinced herself this was a gift. A second chance to live without a blade at her throat. That delusion shattered on her first day at the elite Oberoi University. Vikramaditya...or ..Vikrant Oberoi? Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering a war drum against her ribs. She had traveled through time and death to escape her fate, only to find her greatest enemy waiting for her in the one place she thought she was safe. He didn't look away. His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unreadable, as if he had been counting the days until she arrived.

The night everything changed, it was raining. At eighteen, she arrived home clutching a miracle-her debut manuscript, But the celebration died in her throat. In the backyard, under a weeping sky, her father was digging. The hole was long, narrow, and deep. A grave. For her. Nandini ran. She scrambled over the fence, her leg catching on jagged metal. Blood-bright, hot-sprayed across the mud, soaking the pages of the manuscript she dropped in her terror. She vanished into the darkness, leaving her heart's work to be buried in the very earth intended for her body. But the grave didn't stay empty. The mixture of her blood and the ink of her "Villain" acted as a dark alchemy. As the rain flooded the pit, the shadows began to scream. A hand, cold and powerful, clawed out of the muck. Sylus. The monster she had penned to suffer. He crawled into reality with one singular, necrotic purpose- ' To find the author who wrote his tragedy and make her bleed for every word.' FIVE YEARS LATER- The world knows her as 'Luna' , the reclusive literary titan. Tonight, the masks come off. She believes the girl who ran through the rain is dead. She believes her secrets are buried. She is wrong. Yashvardhan Singhania. In five years, He has conquered the world, rising from a grave to become a MAFIA kingpin more feared than any fiction. He came here to finish her. He came to watch the light leave her eyes. But as he looks down at her-his "Little Swan"-the hatred that kept him alive for half a decade mutters a silent prayer. The killer doesn't strike. Instead, He falls. His obsession shifts from murder to a terrifying, divine devotion. She is his architect - she is his religion. He will wrap his dark energy around her until she can breathe only his air. But as Yashvardhan watches her from the dark, he feels a shiver of familiar ice. He knows the truth of that rainy night. He wasn't the only nightmare that crawled out of the ink.

The portrait should have been nothing more than paint on fading canvas- Yet the moment the students stepped into the museum hall, the air shifted. It felt as if the walls remembered things -Prisha felt it first. Prisha Mehta-quiet, observant, orphaned-stood apart from her class, fingers grazing the railing as her eyes fixed on the newly unearthed painting. Princess Shivanya Maheshwari. The artist had painted her like a prayer. Long kohl-lined eyes. Dusky skin glowing beneath jewels. A soft mouth curved with grace. But beneath all the beauty, something felt terribly wrong. Prisha's heartbeat stilled. Because the princess didn't just resemble her. She looked exactly like her.The same eyes. The same bone structure. The same face. Her professor spoke somewhere behind her, recounting how Shivanya's kingdom fell to war centuries ago. How she died young, slain by the ruthless Prince Prithviraj Kshatriya-heir of the rival throne. That night, sleep refused to come. Something inside her whispered- Go back. She shouldn't have. She shouldn't have snuck past the locked museum doors, shouldn't have wandered alone through marble corridors lit only by thunder. But curiosity-dangerous, consuming-pulled her in. Thunder cracked above, rattling the walls.Prisha's breath hitched. And then-even before she could scream-the ground split open beneath her. The museum vanished. With a violent gasp, she clawed her way to the surface. Gone was the museum. Gone was the girl she had been. She staggered to her feet-drenched, trembling- maroon silk clinging to her body, gold heavy around her throat and wrists. She wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore.She was wearing the princess's. Prisha-no, Shivanya-stood in a storm-drenched forest. The only way back to her time was through the portrait. But to reach it...she would have to survive the kingdom that killed her once- -and the prince who was never meant to fall in love with her.

The room was silent-too silent. The kind that made even the ticking clock sound like a scream. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the woman standing at the head of the table. Roohani Singhania. And the reason three grown men were visibly sweating despite the perfectly functioning air conditioning. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the trembling senior executive. The contract in her hand flapped like a death warrant. "You really thought I wouldn't notice this?" Her tone was calm-too calm. The kind of calm that made even the bravest want to run. "Ms. Singhania, I-" The papers landed on the table with a snap. "Get. Out." He didn't wait to be told twice. He bolted, leaving behind his dignity and a very awkward silence. For a moment, the Ice Queen simply stood there, her sharp gaze scanning the table full of terrified subordinates. Then- Clink. A cup of coffee slid to a stop beside her hand. "Extra strong. No sugar. Just how you like it." Her eyes flickered upward, meeting the calm brown ones of Mahir Sehgal-her personal assistant, the only man in the building who seemed immune to her frostbite. "You were five minutes late," she said coolly, though her fingers curled around the cup. "Traffic," he said with a grin that didn't quite hide the teasing in his eyes. "Or maybe I was just waiting for your dramatic exit moment. You know, timing." Her lips twitched-almost a smile.. "Meeting's over," Mahir said, gathering her things with practiced ease.Roohani rolled her eyes and turned, her heels clicking with authority. Mahir followed behind, matching her stride. She was the coldest woman in the business world. He was the only one who could make her laugh... and maybe, one day, melt. But no one-not even the Ice Queen herself-knew that the man who made her coffee also had ice in his veins when he needed to. And this time, she wasn't the only one capable of taming.

On the night of her wedding, Princess Meera Shree Rajput sat draped in red and gold, her pulse trembling beneath the weight of silk and jewels. The air was too still, too heavy, as though the palace itself held its breath. A sound shattered the hush-footsteps, steady and deliberate. She turned. Her groom stood before her, his face veiled in a mask , a sword glinting in his hand. Before her lips could form a word, the blade found her heart. Her bangles struck the marble floor in a scatter of sound, her breath faltered, and the palace drowned in silence. When her eyes opened again, time had lost its meaning. Centuries unraveled like threads: Empires rose and crumbled, storms clawed at the stone halls, and still she wandered-unseen, unheard, bound to the place of her death. Until one night, headlights cut through the darkness of the courtyard. From the car stepped a man-his presence carved against the winter air. His gaze swept the ruins... and stopped on HER. For the first time in lifetimes, Princess Meera was seen.

The clang of steel, the roar of warriors, the taste of blood and dust-Viraaj Singh Chauhan was in the heart of war when the world tore itself apart. One strike, one heartbeat, and then-silence. When his eyes opened again, there was no battlefield. Thunder roared from machines racing over black roads. Glass towers pierced the night, the air stinking of smoke and metal. A king, stripped of the crown and kingdom, stood lost among strangers. Five years later, the world knew another name. Veeranshu Rajput. Not the warrior king, but the billionaire who bent empires to his will. Veeranshu had carved his throne from steel and glass, becoming one of the most powerful men on earth. - Mahira Sengupta had lived with visions all her life-palaces burning, skies collapsing, and a king with eyes like storms. She wrote them into novels the world adored, never confessing the truth: she had never seen his face. Only his eyes. Only his voice. "You brought me back, Mahira. Now nothing will keep me from you." She never knew her dreams had already stepped into this century. And somewhere, behind the mask of the most powerful man alive, the lost king was waiting.

In the heart of Jaipur, where chaos kissed royalty and secrets slept beneath marbled domes, he ruled without apology. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat - the uncrowned king of Rajasthan. Cold. Calculated. Lethal behind a polished mask. To the world, a royal heir guarding tradition. In truth, the phantom pulling political strings, the storm whose silence promised ruin. But even storms... can be caught off guard. One evening, trapped in traffic near Central Park, a sound cut through his thoughts-a tune, soft and soulful. Instinct pulled him into the park, following it like prey to a predator. She sat on the grass in a white floral saree, hair loosely braided, fingers coaxing life from a guitar. Eyes closed. Unaware. Unbothered. She wasn't trying to be seen-yet he couldn't look away. Then she was gone. Days later, a decades-old ledger surfaced-evidence that could destroy his empire. At its center: Meher Sen, daughter of Arindam Sen, an ex-investigator about to expose ministers, businessmen-and him. Power demanded he erase the threat. Obsession made him claim it. A marriage was arranged. On paper, protection. In reality, possession. Binding her meant silencing her father forever. It should have ended there. But the moment she stepped into his home, something darker than blackmail took root. Even kings fall-especially for the ones they try to cage.

❝𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖..𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏❞ ________ READ THE EDITED VERSION OF THIS BOOK ON SCROLLSTACK. [LINK GIVEN IN BIO] ________ "Who are you to me?" Her eyes went to his , findings what he was trying to do, but she found nothing apart from anger, his eyes getting darker by each passing seconds, making her whole existence shiver at the sight. "I asked you something, kitten." With lowered eyes and cheeks red by the endearment,she felt herself getting lost in the dark pool of his eyes. Gulping, she said. "Your W-Wife" She felt weird mentioning herself as his wife. Something she never thought she would do. "So Mrs. Iris Xavier Knight, pay close attention as you listen. You are all I need. My wife is everything I need. Since I can't even remember, you are the one person I have ever sought in my entire life. So listen carefully, you belong to me! mine from the day you were born, and I have no intention of giving up on it or allowing you to do it." ........... ●2ɴᴅ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ #ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs sᴇʀɪᴇs.(Cᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀs ᴀ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ) ●Bᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ Dᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʟɪɢʜᴛ BDSM. (Have a lot of grammatical and spelling mistakes.) Started on: 20th November 2022. Ended on :- 25th October 2024 Author♡

#𝟏 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝟭𝟬 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮 [14th Sep, 24; 10th Nov, 24; 16th & 17th Dec, 24] #𝟑 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝟭𝟬 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮 [9th Nov, 24] #𝟒 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝟭𝟬 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮 [13th Sep, 24] #𝟔 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝟭𝟬 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮 [14th Dec, 24] #𝟖 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝟭𝟬 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮 [15th Dec, 24] What will happen when a workaholic introverted business tycoon is tied up in an arranged marriage with a bubbly, sweet doctor? Will they be able to bridge the gap between their contrasting worlds, or will their differences drive them apart? Will Abhimanyu Singh Rathore learn to open his heart and embrace the joy Samyukta Chauhan brings into his life? Can Samyukta find a way to break through the walls Abhimanyu has built around himself? Why don't you find it out? Abhimanyu Singh Rathore (29) X Samyukta Chauhan (24) TROPES Soft Romance Desi Romance Royalty Mafia X Doctor Brother's Bestfriend/ Sister's Bestfriend IMPRESSIVE RANKINGS #1 Rajasthan (out of 1.71k stories) #1 Desiromance (out of 1.82k stories) #3 Businessman (out of 3.83k stories) #4 Mafia (out of 147k stories) #22 Mafia ( out of 141k stories)