Chapter 11
The morning after the Royal Delhi Polo Cup was strangely quiet.
Poorvanshi woke up in her massive bed in the East Wing guest suite, the heavy silk sheets tangled around her legs.
She lay perfectly still for a few minutes, watching the morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains.
The light cast beautiful, cinematic rays across the room, illuminating tiny dust motes that floated in the air like a slow-motion fluid simulation.
Her mind was completely racing.
Siddhant’s words from yesterday echoed loudly in her head. 'You belong with me. Because you are mine, Poorvanshi. And I do not share what is mine.'
He had practically confessed his feelings in the middle of a crowded VIP tent, looking at her with a fierce, burning possessiveness that had completely shattered her defenses.
She had admitted that she didn't want anyone else. It was a massive, terrifying leap of faith. They were no longer just a billionaire trying to save his family’s reputation and a bride trying to save her dignity.
They were two people tumbling headfirst into a dangerous, undeniable love.
But as the morning dragged on, the reality of her situation slowly began to creep back in.
She was still living in a house full of secrets. Aryan was still missing. Her father’s health was still fragile, and the people living in the West Wing of this very mansion, Raghav and Nandini Chaturvedi, still despised her.
Poorvanshi took a hot shower, dressed in a simple, elegant beige cotton suit, and tied her dark hair into a loose braid. She decided to go down to the kitchen to get her own coffee, hoping the simple, routine task would clear her overwhelmed mind.
She walked out of her suite and navigated the massive, labyrinth-like corridors of the Chaturvedi mansion. The house was incredibly quiet today. Most of the staff were busy cleaning the outdoor pavilions after the recent events, leaving the indoor hallways mostly deserted.
As she walked, Poorvanshi realized she had taken a wrong turn. She was an architect with an excellent sense of direction, but her mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of Siddhant’s intense, clean-shaven jawline and his deep, rough voice that she hadn't been paying attention to her path.
She stopped, looking around the grand corridor. The polished marble floors reflected the antique wall sconces, creating ray-traced reflections of light that bounced off the dark mahogany doors.
She had wandered into the West Wing.
The West Wing was strictly forbidden territory. It was the private domain of Raghav and Nandini. Rule number two on Siddhant’s initial list had explicitly forbidden her from coming here.
Poorvanshi quickly turned around, intending to retrace her steps before anyone saw her.
But just as she took her first step back, she heard a voice.
It was a sharp, angry hiss coming from behind a set of heavy, slightly cracked double doors just a few feet away.
"You are being completely careless, Raghav!"
Poorvanshi froze instantly. It was Nandini’s voice.
"Keep your voice down," Raghav Chaturvedi hissed back, his tone laced with panic and fury.
Every logical instinct in Poorvanshi's brain screamed at her to walk away. She did not want to eavesdrop on her terrible in-laws. But something in the frantic, desperate tone of Raghav's voice made her feet stay firmly glued to the marble floor.
She took a slow, completely silent step closer to the cracked door, holding her breath.
"I cannot keep my voice down!" Nandini paced the floor inside the room, her high heels clicking sharply.
"Kabir Malhotra has been asking questions in the accounting department.
He requested the offshore transfer logs from six months ago!
If he finds the money, Siddhant will find the money.
And if Siddhant finds the money, we are all completely destroyed! "
Poorvanshi frowned, her heart beginning to beat faster. 'Money? What money?' Kabir had mentioned yesterday that Aryan had liquidated his own personal shares to fund his escape.
"Kabir is a lawyer, not a forensic accountant," Raghav replied, though he sounded incredibly stressed.
"He will only see what I want him to see.
The company ledgers are perfectly doctored.
I routed the funds through three different dummy corporations before they reached Aryan's account in South America. "
The words hit Poorvanshi with the force of a high-speed train.
She stopped breathing entirely.
'I routed the funds... before they reached Aryan's account.'
"It wasn't enough!" Nandini cried out. "Aryan called me last night on the secure line.
He burned through the first three million in a month!
The cartel he owes money to is getting impatient.
He needs more cash, Raghav. If we do not send him another transfer by Friday, they will release his location, and Siddhant will find him. "
"I cannot just snap my fingers and make another three million disappear from the Chaturvedi Group accounts!
" Raghav yelled, finally losing his temper.
"Siddhant watches the finances like a hawk!
It took me six months to secretly siphon the first batch of money to help Aryan escape the wedding!
Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?
If Siddhant finds out that I stole company money to fund Aryan's gambling debts, he won't just kick us out of this house. He will hand me over to the police!"
"We had to do it!" Nandini defended herself, her voice breaking. "Aryan was going to be killed! We had to get him out of the country!"
"And we did!" Raghav shot back aggressively. "We bought him a plane ticket, we gave him a fake passport, and we paid off the security guards at the wedding to look the other way while he walked out the back door! We gave him exactly what he needed!"
"We used that poor Rathore girl as a shield!
" Nandini sobbed, sounding more panicked than guilty.
"We pushed for that massive, ridiculous wedding just so the media and Siddhant’s security would be completely distracted while our son fled for his life!
If Siddhant finds out that we orchestrated the runaway groom scandal...
if he finds out we humiliated the Rathore family on purpose just to cover up a corporate embezzlement... he will destroy us!"
Outside the door, Poorvanshi’s entire world violently collapsed.
The heavy, dark reality of the situation crashed down on her shoulders with a crushing, suffocating weight.
Aryan hadn't just run away because he was a coward. He hadn't acted alone.
His parents, Raghav and Nandini, had known exactly what was happening. They had planned it. They had actively stolen millions from their own company, manipulated the security teams, and orchestrated the entire escape.
And worst of all... they had deliberately used her.
They had proposed the marriage to her vulnerable, sick father, knowing full well that there would never be a wedding.
They had let Rajesh Rathore spend his life savings on decorations and catering.
They had let him fold his hands and beg for forgiveness in front of hundreds of people, crying tears of humiliation, while they secretly knew they had just put their own son on a private jet.
They had used her family’s honor as a cheap, disposable distraction.
Poorvanshi stumbled backward, her hand flying up to cover her mouth to muffle a gasp of pure horror.
Her chest suddenly felt incredibly tight, as if a massive, invisible hand were crushing her ribs. She couldn't breathe. The air in the hallway felt thick, toxic, and completely suffocating.
She turned and practically ran blindly down the corridor, desperate to get away from the West Wing, desperate to get away from the sickening, twisted reality of the Chaturvedi family.
Her vision began to blur. The edges of the hallway faded into a dark, tunnel-like vignette.
The cinematic lighting of the mansion no longer looked beautiful, it looked like a terrifying, golden cage.
Her heart was hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against her sternum, beating so fast it was physically painful.
'They used my father. They used me.'
The betrayal was so deep, so profoundly cruel, that her brain simply could not process it.
Poorvanshi pushed open a heavy glass door at the end of the hallway, stumbling into the mansion’s massive indoor botanical greenhouse. The air inside was warm, humid, and thick with the scent of wet earth and blooming orchids.
She collapsed against a heavy stone pillar, her knees completely giving out.
She slid down the rough stone until she was sitting on the damp floor, pulling her knees tightly to her chest. She gasped for air, taking short, ragged breaths, but her lungs refused to expand.
She was having a panic attack.
Tears of pure, blinding anger and profound grief streamed down her face. She felt entirely alone, entirely trapped. Her father's crying face from the wedding night flashed in her mind, followed by the cruel, calculating voices of Raghav and Nandini. Every single thing in this house was a lie.
"Poorvanshi!"
The deep, urgent shout echoed through the humid air of the greenhouse.
Footsteps pounded rapidly against the stone pathways, moving with terrifying speed.
Siddhant had been looking for her. He had asked the staff where she was, and one of the maids had mentioned seeing her walk towards the West Wing corridors. He had followed her path, his protective instincts already on high alert, only to find her collapsed on the floor of the greenhouse.
Siddhant rounded the corner and skidded to a halt.
When he saw her sitting on the floor, gasping desperately for air, her face pale and streaked with tears, the cold, calculated Devil of Delhi completely vanished.
"Poorvanshi!" Siddhant dropped to his knees on the damp stone floor right in front of her, completely uncaring about his expensive, tailored grey trousers.