His Widow

All of them stood around with surprise and shock morphed on their faces while some had fear as they looked at him who was striding infront of them with his hands locked at his back.

Turning to them he looked into those all eyes with his sharp gaze sending shivers to them as he spoke next words again striding from one end to the other with his authoritative personality.

"From now on.....this property.....This house belongs to me Arnav Singh Rathore, and you all ....will be working here, under me from now on".

Their eyes widen as they looked at him in disbelief. Them the owners of their house till yesterday are supposed to work under him. How insulting. They would never do that. Before they open their mouth he spoke again.

" If not, you will be out as beggars. Or just work under me as slaves".

He said as he took a side glance at them and smirked on finding them red in humiliation and anger.

This is what he wants. Nope. He wants more than that. He turned around swiftly where she stood. There in a white saree. The one who weighs the honour of her new home on her shoulders as a daughter in law but a widow. The wife of that person who he had killed right on the asile infront of her. To destroy their honour, the one they cherish the most she will be his one target for him.

He strided towards her in slow steps as her body visibly tensed with her shoulders risen up as she looked at him hesitantly with her flickering eye lashes casting up and down. Standing right infront of her he jutted his chin to her with a smirk as he spoke.

"And you Mrs. Rathore. The honour of this home will be my personal slave from now on, servicing my special needs and comforts, in my bedroom ".