POSSESSED BY HER

JUSTICE SAVIOR

VIYANA SINCLAIR

“How the fuck did that man find out about those partnerships?”

I shouted, rage clawing its way up my spine.

Vihaan, my brother froze in front of me, panic written all over his face.

“You can’t even run an illegal operation without getting caught,” I muttered, exhaling sharply.

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. Smoke filled my lungs—my only form of control right now. God.

“Bribe him,” I said coldly, my eyes fixed on my brother.

“He’s not accepting it,” Vihaan replied, collapsing onto a chair and running his hands through his hair.

“Then offer more,” I snapped. “Offer him crores.”

“I did,” he said quietly. “Fifty crores. He still refused.”

I turned to him, genuinely surprised this time.

“Is he expecting something else?” I asked.

“No.”

I scoffed, irritation curling into disbelief.

“Which world are we living in where people reject crores of money?” I said bitterly.

“Especially when he’s nothing but a poor asshole.”

“Did you check his family background?” I asked, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray as I turned toward him.

“Yes,” Vihaan said, swiveling the laptop in my direction. “Just like you assumed—middle class. A younger sister. Parents. Grandparents. Both alive.”

Photographs filled the screen. Smiling faces. Ordinary. Warm. Whole.

I scoffed.

“I need to meet him,” I said flatly.

Vihaan’s shoulders sagged in relief. He stepped closer and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“You’re the only one who can help me, Vivi,” he said quietly.

I rolled my eyes and shrugged his hands off.

“As if I don’t already have enough on my plate,” I snapped. “Grandfather made sure of that before dying—leaving a legal statement that I can’t access his properties unless I get married.”

I turned back to him, my voice sharpening.

“And now you get caught by a mere nurse while buying low-quality medicines at dirt-cheap prices?”

I let out a humorless laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?”

“He has evidence,” Vihaan said, his voice low. “Proof of our hospital’s connections with suppliers dealing in low-quality medicines and vaccines.”

“He threatened me with it,” he continued. “I saw everything—every document, every transaction. My name was everywhere. Even if we bribed the Supreme Court, I’d still be sentenced to at least two years. And the companies… they’d collapse.”

He exhaled shakily.

“You should have thought of that before partnering with a cheap, low-cost supplier,” I said flatly, my fingers still tapping meaningless words on my phone.

“I’m not afraid of going to jail, Vivi,” he said quietly. “But if I do… what happens to Zara?”

“She’ll be left alone,” he went on. “And the court will send her back to her mother.”

I sighed, pressing my thumb against my temple.

My brother had already lost his wife—not to death, but to betrayal. She had an affair, even after having a child with him. He divorced her, fought for custody, and was raising Zara alone.

If he went to jail now, the court would undo everything.

And Zara—unwanted by the woman who gave birth to her—would be handed back to her like a punishment.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

Vihaan’s phone buzzed. He answered it, listened for a few seconds, then looked at me.

“Everything is ready,” he said. “You can go meet him.”

I stood up, brushing invisible dust from my shirt, then reached for my coat and slipped it on.

“You’re not coming?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” he said quietly.

I nodded and walked out without another word.

The corridor felt too silent as I headed straight for my car. The chauffeur opened the door, and I slid into the back seat. The engine started, smooth and obedient, as the car pulled away.

I opened my bag and took out the gun, its weight familiar, grounding. I checked it once, then loaded it with calm precision.

Not because I planned to use it.

But because I needed him to understand one thing very clearly—that he is messing up with the wrong person.

The car stopped in a narrow local street.

My face twisted in disgust as I took in the sight—people moving around like ants, cheap vehicles clogging the road, noise without purpose. Poverty always had a smell. I hated that my car had to breathe it in.

It halted in front of his house.

Small. Cramped. Pathetic.

My bathroom was bigger than this place.

I rolled my eyes as the bodyguards stepped out and opened the door for me. The moment my heels touched the ground, sunlight hit my face harshly.

I shot a glare at my servant.

He panicked immediately and hurried to hand me my sunglasses. I slipped them on, shielding myself from both the sun and the sight in front of me.

Then I walked forward—toward his tiny nest.

My bodyguard pressed the doorbell.

Footsteps followed. Slow. Hesitant.

The door opened to reveal a woman in her late fifties. The moment her eyes landed on me—on the cars, the men, the silence—fear flickered across her face.

I slipped my hand into my bag. And took out the gun as I pointed it straight to her forehead.

Her breath hitched.

“Adithya!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she called out his name.

I chuckled softly and withdrew my hand.

“Relax, Mrs. Menon,” I said with mock amusement. “I’m not here to stain your floor with blood.”

Before she could react, I stepped inside. One of my bodyguards gently—but firmly—moved her aside.

The house was small. Too small.

Gold medals lined the walls. Certificates. Framed photographs of a family smiling like the world had been kind to them.

I hummed, unimpressed.

“Ma?”

The voice came from the hallway.

I turned.

Adithya Menon.

The color drained from his face the moment he saw me.

“Filthy people, inside my home.”he said coldly, his eyes blazing as they met mine.

I chuckled, enjoying the fire in his gaze, and casually took a seat on the nearest chair—like I owned the place.

“Relax, Adithya Menon,” I said lazily.

“So,” I said calmly, meeting his eyes,

“tell me what you want.”

For the first time since I walked in, his expression faltered. Just for a second. Fear—raw and unguarded—slipped through when my bodyguards brought his mother and sister forward.

I smirked.

“leave them,” he said, stepping toward them.

One of my men moved faster and landed a punch on his face. Adithya staggered back, shock flashing across his face.

His mom and sister cried out in terror.

I watched it all with cold satisfaction.

His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. Hatred burned in his eyes—but he stayed still.

One of my men yanked him down by the collar, forcing him to his knees before me.

I crossed my legs slowly, my heels

catching the light. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as they pinned his arms behind his back, holding him in place.

I smirked.

“Now,” I said calmly, “tell me—what do you want? Money… or property?”

“Justice,” he muttered.

I turned my head slightly. “Hmm?”

“Justice,” he repeated, his tired,

bloodshot eyes lifting to meet mine.

I laughed softly.

“You know,” I said, amused, “my money can buy even your justice.”

He didn’t reply—just stared at me, hollow and vacant.

“I want justice for the people who came to your hospital with hope,” he said, his voice trembling but determined. “They trusted you to diagnose their illness. But you couldn’t even provide quality medicines. Seven people died because of those low-grade drugs. YOU KILLED THEM.”

His voice rose with the last words.

I clenched my teeth. “Don’t raise your voice at me.”

One of my men drove his foot into his stomach. He doubled over, groaning in pain, while his family screamed in terror from behind.

“You think those damn paper evidences can win against us?” I said, leaning closer to him. “You can’t even afford a lawyer’s fee.”

His chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Please… leave us,” his mother cried from the other side.

I turned to her calmly.

“Mrs. Menon, I have no intention of hurting you or your family,” I said evenly. “Your son is the stubborn one here. We’re simply asking him to withdraw the case against our hospital.”

He lifted his head slowly despite the pain, blood drying at the corner of his mouth. His hands trembled, but his eyes didn’t.

“I won’t,” he said hoarsely.

One of my men struck him again, trying to force the words out of him. His body swayed, knees barely holding him up, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t beg.

“Withdraw the case,” I said coldly.

He laughed weakly, the sound broken. “You can break my body,” he said, breathing hard, “but you won’t break the truth.”

His mother sobbed, pleading, but he shook his head once—slow, stubborn, final.

“Do whatever you want,” he continued, voice rough but unwavering. “I’m not signing anything.”

I straightened, the smirk fading into something far colder.

“Very well,” I said quietly. “If pain doesn’t move you, consequences will.”

I turned away from him and looked at his family instead. His mother clutched her saree to her chest, while his father stood frozen, helpless and pale.

“Cancel their medical insurance,” I said calmly. “Freeze the bank account linked to his name. Dismiss his sister from her college. And inform the company to terminate his father’s employment.”

He snapped his head up. “Don’t—”

“And,” I added, cutting him off, “make sure no hospital in India is willing to take him in. Let them understand how expensive justice can be.”

“This is between you and me. My family has nothing to do with this,” he shouted.

I clenched my jaw. “I said don’t raise your voice at me. Understood, Mr. Justice Saviour?”

He panted, struggling to steady his breath.

When one of my men stepped closer to his sister, she screamed in fear.

“I’ll kill you if you touch her, you bastard!” he yelled, thrashing forward.

“Shhh,” I said softly, raising a finger.

“I won’t let my bodyguards lay a hand on your little sister,” I continued calmly. “But…”

I leaned closer, my voice dropping.

“I can’t promise her safety once she steps outside this house. People go missing every day. Mothers lose their way home. Fathers are found after unfortunate accidents.”

I held his gaze.

“And you,” I said quietly, “will be left alone—with your justice.”

Fear flickered in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

When he remained silent, my bodyguard stepped toward his father and grabbed him by the collar.

“Don’t—please!” he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut.

His father’s face was a mix of terror and confusion, too stunned to even react.

The bodyguard paused and looked at me.

I gave a slight nod.

He released the old man and stepped back, leaving the fear hanging heavy in the air.

“So… think wisely, Mr. Justice Saviour,” I said.

“This isn’t some movie where you’re the main character,” I continued. “This is reality.”

I tilted my head slightly. “And in a country like India, justice can be bought—easily.”

I let the words sink in before adding, almost casually,

“Especially when the case is against a multinational company with political influence.”

I chuckled, watching helplessness settle into his face.

“Do you really think you can win against us?”

I watched him closely then—and that’s when I noticed it.

His lashes trembled. His jaw tightened, fighting something far more dangerous than fear. Slowly, against his will, his eyes welled up.

He didn’t sob. He didn’t break down.

A single tear slipped free, trailing down his bruised cheek as he stared at the floor, refusing to let his family see him like that.

For a moment, the room fell silent.

To me, it was almost poetic—a man on his knees before a woman, tears slipping past his resolve.

“Will you leave my family alone if I accept?” His voice trembled as the words escaped him.

Finally.

“Of course,” I said with a shrug. “After all, I have nothing to gain from your family.”

He didn’t reply. He looked at them once—his parents, his sister—memorizing their faces. Then his gaze returned to me.

“O-okay,” he whispered.

I glanced at my secretary. She immediately stepped forward, pulling out a contract—a document confirming his voluntary withdrawal of the case against us. She placed the paper and pen in front of him.

He stared at it blankly.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have all day. Just sign it.”

He took the pen with shaking fingers and signed, placing the paper on the floor before me. A tear slipped down, blotting the ink.

I scoffed, stood up, and yanked the paper from the ground.

Without another glance, I turned and walked out. My bodyguards and secretary followed.

As I reached the corridor, I dialled Vihaan's number and pressed my phone to my ear.

“Done,” I said.