19. Forced Terms
YUGANT
“Did you find the man Dhwani met last night?” I asked.
Ishaan stood straight in front of me, tablet in hand.
“Yes, sir. I traced the car details. It’s registered under Maheshwar Pratap Rathore Samarth and Dhwani’s uncle.”
My jaw tightened.
“So it was him,” I said quietly. “He’s the one blackmailing her. The one who sent her here to steal my project.”
“99 percent confirmed, sir,” Ishaan replied without hesitation.
I looked away, staring out of the glass wall.
“Ishaan… I need you to investigate one more thing.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Five years ago the company that stole our designs and showcased them at the Gala. Find out if there was any connection to the Rathores.”
Ishaan frowned. “Rathores? Sir, is that even possible?”
“Very,” I said flatly. “Because every time my past bleeds, their name is somewhere nearby.”
He nodded. “Understood, sir. I’ll bring you the full report.”
I turned back to him.
“The designs are ready, right? The Gala is in seven days.”
“Yes, sir. Everything is secured. Nothing will go wrong this time.”
I paused. Then—
“I want the first design, Ishaan.”
His brows shot up. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, sir. I’ll get it.”
He walked out, unaware of the decision I’d already made.
Because this time,
I wasn’t just protecting my work. I was setting a trap.
The more I thought about Dhwani, the clearer it became she loved Samarth with a devotion that bordered on self-destruction.
And if I was reading her right…
she would agree.
Not because she wanted, but because five nights with me could buy her brother’s life—Dhwani Rathore would walk straight into that fire without looking back.
And that meant only one thing.
Everything she said about Samarth was true.
He wasn’t hiding.
He wasn’t running.
He was actively missing for the last four years.
Which changes everything. Because if Samarth Rathore disappeared without a trace, then someone made sure of it. And if someone made sure of it, then there is a truth buried deep.
Samarth isn’t just a ghost from my past.
He’s the key.
The lock I’ve been trying to break open for years will only turn when I find him.
And now…I know exactly where my search begins.
?
The knock snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Come in.”
A servant entered. “Daadi ji has called you downstairs for dinner, sir.”
I nodded. The door closed.
Finally.
After two fucking years, there would be someone sitting beside me at the dining table as a family.
I freshened up and headed downstairs. Daadi and Daadu were already seated when I arrived.
The moment I took my chair, Daadi gestured to a servant. “Call Ishaan as well.”
Great.
Audience upgraded.
A few minutes later, Ishaan walked in.
“Take a seat, Ishaan. Have dinner with us,” Daadi ordered.
He glanced at me, then at her. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Sit.”
He obeyed.
I waited. For Dhwani.
I was sure she hadn’t eaten since morning. And against my own logic, I almost stood up to go get her, but stopped hearing Daadi’s voice.
“Where is that girl?” Daadi asked.
“Who?” I replied innocently, even though I knew exactly who.
She rolled her eyes. “Your… revenge wife.”
At that exact moment, Ishaan choked on his first bite and started coughing like he was about to meet God.
Fuck.
I hadn’t briefed him about this version of the story.
“W–wife?” he croaked. “Whose wife?”
“Yugant’s,” Daadu said cheerfully, smiling.
“When did this happen?” Ishaan asked, eyes bulging.
I slammed my hand on the table. “Fuck off, you dumbass. I’ve told you a hundred times to see a doctor. Your memory is shit.”
He stared at me. “Me?”
“Of course you. Didn’t you know I married Dhwani for revenge?”
“WHAAAT—??” he shouted.
I swear, my ears rang.
“When did this happen?” he asked again.
“Ishaan,” I gritted out, “go see a doctor. You forget everything.”
Daadi narrowed her eyes at us. “Is there something you’re hiding from us, Yugant?”
“No, Daadi,” I said smoothly. “This idiot just forgets things. He even forgot he took pictures at our wedding.”
“Oh really?” Ishaan blinked.
“Yes,” I snapped.
“Then why don’t you show us the pictures?” Daadu asked casually.
Fuck.
I smiled. Forced. “Uh… Daadu, Ishaan took them. And you know him he forgot where he kept the camera.”
Daadu nodded thoughtfully. “Ishaan, you really should see a doctor.”
Ishaan nodded too, like an obedient child. “Yes, Daadu.”
Then Daadi turned back to me. “Why don’t you bring your wife for dinner?”
I met her gaze and smiled.
She wasn’t evil.
Just broken.
Watching your children’s bodies being lowered into the ground changes people.
“I mean,” she continued, softer now, “it’s not good to sleep hungry. Not that I care. She’s just… useful.”
A lie. But a necessary one.
“Yeah, yeah, we know that, Sharda,” Daadu teased. Daadi shut him up with one glare.
I called a servant. “Bring Dhwani downstairs.” Because obviously, I didn’t want anyone thinking I had even a trace of concern for her.
Yeah… but you have much more than a soft corner, bastard, my mind mocked.
I clenched my jaw.
Chaos.
Lies.
Revenge.
After a few minutes, Dhwani walked in behind the servant—slow, quiet, like she’d been waiting for this call all along. Of course she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten a thing since morning.
Without sparing me a glance, she picked up a plate and served herself clumsy as ever—half the rice landing on the table instead of the plate. She didn’t bother fixing it. She simply carried the plate and sat at the far end of the dining table, away from everyone.
“Everyone is sitting here,” Daadu said gently. “You should sit with us, not all the way there.”
She didn’t even look up.
“That space is for family,” she replied calmly, scooping rice into her mouth. “I’m not.”
Daadi’s gaze lingered on her, studying the way she ate.
Rice mixed with dal.
The pace.
The absent-minded mess.
Exactly like Samarth.
Something flickered in Daadi’s eyes, memory, perhaps—but it vanished just as quickly.
“You’re a married woman now,” Daadi said pointedly. “At least wear vermillion and a nuptial chain. Behave like one.”
Dhwani paused mid-bite. Slowly, she looked up.
“Why don’t you tell your grandson to wear all that?” she said calmly, her eyes sliding toward me without hesitation. “He’s the one who’s married. I don’t even remember when it happened.”
Daadi stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”
Oh God.
This girl.
“She means,” I cut in quickly, forcing a casual tone, “that I married her forcefully. So no, she isn’t interested in playing the perfect married woman.”
Dhwani shook her head slowly, still chewing her food.
Silence slammed onto the table.
Ishaan suddenly found his plate very interesting, but I know he was enjoying all of this inside.
“You know, you’re so shameless. Your brother was swee—” Daadi stopped mid-sentence.
The table fell silent.
So did everyone else.
It would be a lie to say we didn’t miss Samarth.
He was more at home here than in Rajasthan.
Holidays, festivals—he chose this house.
He chose us. And still, I couldn’t digest the image of him running away while my family lay dying.
If he had taken them to the hospital that night, everything would’ve been different.
“You miss my brother,” Dhwani said quietly. Not accusing. Not mocking. Just stating a truth.
Daadi’s jaw tightened.
“Of course,” she replied bitterly. “How does one forget the man who wiped out our entire family?”
Dhwani smiled.
“Coins have two sides, Mrs. Raizaada,” she said, finally lifting her eyes. Calm. “And just because you’re staring at one… doesn’t mean the other side doesn’t exist.”
She picked up her plate, fingers steady despite the storm she’d stirred, and turned toward the kitchen.
DHWANI
These Raizaadas are so… urgh.
Annoying.
All ego, no logic.
I get it, they lost their family. That kind of loss rots you from the inside.
But grief doesn’t give you a license to shut your brain off completely.
I washed my plate, wiped it dry, and slid it into the cabinet. Clean. Precise. Mechanical.
Because if I stopped moving, I’d explode.
My phone buzzed.
I checked the name and sighed.
Another cranky old man.
“Yeah?” I said flatly. “What is it now?”
“I called to remind you about—”
“The designs?” I cut him off. “I’m on it. Don’t crawl inside my head right now.”
Silence.
I yawned, deliberately.
“You have only six da—”
“I know exactly how many days I have,” I snapped. “Stop pretending you own my fear. I know I have to save my brother, and I will do it this time, properly.”
I leaned against the counter, voice dropping.
“But listen to me carefully.”
He didn’t interrupt. Good.
“You threw me out of the car because you thought I was weak. Because I was broken. I didn’t say a word then. But if I bring you those designs and you think you can ditch me if you think you can keep my brother from me—” My fingers tightened around the phone. “Then pray I never find him.”
I paused again.
“Because if I do, I’ll hunt you instead. And I promise—you’ll regret ever teaching me how ugly desperation can be.”
I ended the call.
My hands were steady.
My heart wasn’t.
But one thing was clear now—I wasn’t the scared girl they thought they were playing with anymore.
As I turned to leave, I froze.
Yugant was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes dark—like he’d been waiting for this moment.
Great. Another emotionally constipated man with control issues.
I tried to walk past him, but his arm shot out, blocking my way.
“What the fuck do you want now?” I snapped.
“You,” he said bluntly. “Your answer. I’ve been waiting.”
He reached up, pushing a loose strand of my hair back like he owned the right. I slapped his hand away instantly.
“Didn’t your grandmother teach you how to behave with women?” I shot back.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Didn’t your brother teach you not to steal from men who bite back?”
I smiled slowly.
“He did,” I said calmly. “He just forgot to mention your name… because I didn’t know you counted as a man.”
His face darkened and hovered inches from mine, breath hot, controlled, furious. “You want to test that theory?” he murmured.
“No, Mr. Raizaada. I don’t need to test your manhood. I can already see how fragile it is.”
“This tongue of yours,” he murmured, eyes flicking to my lips, “it knows exactly where to strike, Ms. Rathore.” He leaned closer, too close—his breath brushing my cheek. “And when I decide to answer with my tongue,” he added softly, cruelly, “you won’t be so brave with your words.”
He didn’t wait for a reaction. He just turned and walked away, leaving his words hanging in the air like smoke after a fire.
I stood there, stunned.
What did he even mean by that?
I had barely taken two steps toward my room when I saw Jasoos Daadi.
Standing in the corridor like a CCTV camera with emotions.
Doesn’t she have a life?
Or is spying on me her full-time retirement plan?
I kept my face blank and walked faster.
“You girl—come here,” she called out sharply.
Girl?
Really?
I didn’t even slow down.
I have a damn pretty name.
I pretended I hadn’t heard a thing and kept walking, hand already on my door.
“Hey! You—” she tried again, irritation creeping into her voice.
“Dhwani.”
I stopped.
A slow, very deliberate smile curved on my lips.
I turned around, instantly switching expressions—wide eyes, innocent face, pure angel energy.
“Me?” I asked sweetly, pointing at myself like I’d just been blessed. “Oh—I thought you were calling someone else. You know… girl is such a broad category.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I folded my hands politely. “Yes, Mrs Raizaada?”
Inside, I was already enjoying this way too much. Her eyes narrowed.
“Why are you going there?” she demanded.
“Uh…” I tilted my head. “Because I’m human? Humans get tired? And I really can’t stand being monitored like a CCTV camera all day.”
Her fists clenched.
Good. Progress.
She stepped closer. “Why this room? Why not Yugant’s room? You’re his wife.”
Oh God. Not this again.
I sighed dramatically. “What hypocrisy, Mrs Raizaada. It’s a revenge marriage, remember? Or should I assume you’re already planning great-grandchildren?”
Her face flushed with anger.
“You are so—”
“Shameless?” I finished helpfully. “Yes, I know. Still, thank you for the reminder.”
Before she could recover, I turned and walked away fast—no pauses this time, no looking back. Because if I stopped again, I might actually say something that would give her a heart attack.
What kind of twisted family is this?
The grandson throws a five-nights deal at me, and the grandmother wants me to share a room with him in a fake revenge marriage. Am I in a house… or a psychological experiment?
I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.
“Just go to sleep, Dhwani… because from tomorrow, God knows what’s going to happen.”
Oh please, my inner voice scoffed. You know exactly what’s going to happen.
Okay fine. I didn’t mean it that way.
But I was nervous. Terrified, actually.
It would be my first time.
Yes, I’ve fucked a thousand times in my head, different scenarios—but this?
This would be the first time with an actual man.
With Yugant Raizaada.
With consequences.
And that scared me more than I was ready to admit.
??