Adhiraj Raichand. At twenty-nine, he was the most ruthless businessman anyone had ever known. Cold. Calculating. Merciless. People feared him—not because of what he said, but because of what a single look from him could do. One glare, one flicker of his temper, and entire empires crumbled. He didn’t forgive. He didn’t forget. The grand mansion gleamed under the evening lights for a wedding that was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. Adhiraj had chosen his bride. She was the woman he wanted. But love had played its cruelest trick. When he saw her standing apart, the truth struck him like a blade driven straight into his chest. The girl before him—the one standing in bridal silks, ready to take vows—was not the woman he had chosen. Not the woman he had given his heart to. It was her older stepsister. She had lied. She had whispered sweet words into his ear, made him believe she was his, made him fall—deep and mercilessly. She had played with his feelings, let him dream of a future that was nothing but an illusion. She had told him she was his bride. And he had believed her. "I... I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I didn’t have a choice..." She didn’t even complete her sentence. In an instant, his hand shot out and clamped around her arm. He spun her, pinning her against the cold wall. His grip was iron, unyielding, tightening with the promise of deep purple bruises. "Please," she whimpered, terror flooding her eyes. "Someone will see us. Release me—" His gaze burned into her, sharp as a blade. "Please, marry my sister, she is—" CRACK. He didn’t strike her. His fist slammed into the wall beside her head. The sickening sound echoed through the hall. Blood welled from his split knuckles, dripping onto his pristine white sleeve. She froze, trembling like prey cornered by a predator. ................................................................... "Don’t... this is wrong," she pleaded, tears streaking down her face. "You’re my brother-in-law." A slow, terrifying smile spread across his lips. It was the smile of a predator savoring the hunt. He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear, his voice a dark, poisonous whisper. "You said to me, ‘You will take whatever punishment I give you.’ Remember?" His tone was lethal. "So... shall we begin?" He took a step, and she stumbled back—her spine colliding with the wall, trapped. "This marriage happened by your will," he declared, his voice cold and final. "But the wedding night... that will happen by my will."